The Simple Need
by Pandora147
Summary: S is for the simple need; E is for the ecstasy; X is just to mark the spot coz that's the one you really want. Girl meets boy. Sparks fly. Rated M. TxG.
1. One

**THE SIMPLE NEED**

**Disclaimer:**

Disney would be offended at the insinuation that they'd actually _allowed_ me to objectify their characters like this. I am not affiliated. I gain no profit from writing fanfiction otherwise I'd quit my job and just write full time. Lyrics belong to Nickelback.

**AN:**

I think this will be a three shot. It was gonna be a one shot but it seems I'm not capable of literally writing porn without plot and I need _some_ substance. It'll get updated when it gets updated. ;)

Dedicated to **Kelly** who continually says things like 'Dani should write that!' and gets my brain ticking. I say Zachary is my muse, but really, it's awesome supporters like you babe :) (Kelly, sorry it's not _Animals_. That wasn't going to work with the other specs I gave myself. Hopefully you'll like it anyway. I'll tell you what the specs were when it's finished.)

Nominate your favourite fics in the HSM Fanfiction Awards hosted by

****

**~.~**

_No is a dirty word, never gonna say it first_

_No is just a thought that never crosses my mind_

_**S**__ is for the simple need_

_**E**__ is for the ecstasy_

_**X**__ is just to mark the spot coz that's the one you really want_

_**S.E.X. by Nickelback**_

**~.~**

**THE SIMPLE NEED**

**ONE**

Gabriella Montez hesitantly stepped into the bar, grateful to escape from the chilly February weather in New York City but nonetheless feeling like a fish out of water. She wasn't particularly into the bar scene.

"Hey there darlin', need a hand with your coat?" a somewhat inebriated patron asked, stepping up to awkwardly grope at Gabriella's shoulders.

She clutched a little tighter to the black woollen trench and stepped back. "No thank you," she said, politely rebuffing the advances she knew were hidden among the seemingly innocent offer.

She didn't quite understand what men found attractive about her; she wasn't able to go to a bar or nightclub without receiving copious attention. But it was attention that she almost always rebuffed. The men who would drunkenly sidle up to her weren't particularly her 'type'. However any objective third party would be able to see the beauty she possessed, the attractiveness of her clear skin, sparkling light coffee coloured eyes, dazzling smile. She exuded a vibe of innocence and purity, however five minutes of conversion with her was enough to confirm that there was a whole lot more to the package which made her all the more appealing.

She glanced around the room. It was a nice bar, cosy, almost pub like. There were instruments set up on an elevated platform for the band that were due to come on in about fifteen minutes time. The vibe in the room was pretty good, a loud hum of chatter over the rock music that was playing over the speakers – currently Addicted by Saving Abel was playing. She spotted her newfound acquaintances – she hadn't known them long enough to label them as friends – standing around a table on the opposite side of the room with two of their friends. It was their regular hang out on a Friday night, a friend of theirs was in the band who had a regular Friday evening gig. They'd spotted her, and the afro headed male had risen to his feet and was waving madly. Gabriella waved back and tentatively began to make her way across the room.

"Gabriella! I'm so glad you came!" Taylor gushed. The scattering of glasses on the table suggested they'd already had a few drinks.

"Yeah well, my cable isn't hooked up yet and even if I owned any decent DVDs, I wouldn't have any idea where they might be," Gabriella said, smiling at the girl.

"These are our friends Sharpay and Zeke," Chad said, gesturing to the stylish blonde and tall black man.

"I absolutely love your shoes!" Sharpay exclaimed in greeting.

"Oh... thank you," Gabriella said, glancing down at her silver Manolo Blahniks. "I don't normally buy expensive things – I mean, I've had this coat for about six years - but I do have a bit of a shoe fixation. Besides, heels tend to hurt my feet but I've found that the more you spend the less they hurt; and at my height I need to wear heels if I want to be seen in a crowd."

"So you just moved into town a couple of days ago?" Zeke asked.

"Well, I've been in town since December but staying at a hotel," Gabriella said. "I have a bit of an inheritance that I wanted to use to invest in buying an apartment so I took my time looking. I only just moved into the same building as Chad and Taylor on Wednesday."

Greenwich Village was an area that Gabriella had visited a number of times throughout her youth; one of her mother's sisters lived there and Gabriella loved it. So when she'd been offered the contract by NYU, she'd consulted a friend who was a property specialist, made a call to her accountant, and quickly made the decision to buy rather than rent.

She'd moved into her apartment in a building on the corner of Bedford and Grove two mornings prior. Her removalists had done the majority of the grunt work of moving the few items of furniture she owned up the stairs of the elevator-less building to the third floor. She just had a series of boxes that she'd brought in her car for the drive down south from where she'd been living for the past eight years since high school, Boston, Massachusetts. She didn't quite trust the removalists with some of her more precious items with sentimental value. So she'd snagged a park right outside the building and was moving boxes one by one from her trunk up the stairs. On the fourth trip – as she was beginning to feel puffed and ragged with beads of sweat on her forehead even though it was freezing outside – she ran into some of her neighbours.

"I cannot thank the two of you enough for helping me to move my boxes up. The lack of an elevator was a major downfall of the building but I just fell in love with my apartment and the area and I figured that the exercise would be good for me. I didn't contemplate the ramifications on moving day," Gabriella said to Chad and Taylor.

"You've already thanked us, and it wasn't like we were doing anything else," Taylor said, waving her hand away.

"Okay, I'm going to the bar, what does everyone want," Chad announced.

"Margarita," Sharpay requested.

"Make that two," Taylor said.

"Beer," Zeke said simply.

"Gabriella?" Chad asked.

"Oh... um.... just a cola thanks," she said awkwardly.

"Nooo!" both Taylor and Sharpay protested simultaneously.

"Have a drink. Unless... you don't drink for some reason. Which would be fine," Taylor said quickly, covering herself.

Gabriella smiled. "No, I drink just... not often."

"Have a drink, really. They do really great cocktails here," Sharpay encouraged her.

"Oh all right... make it another margarita, I suppose," Gabriella said, a little dubiously. As a result of her physical make up and rarely drinking, just one cocktail had the potential to severely loosen her inhibitions.

The girls clapped excitedly. Zeke excused himself to go to the bar with Chad to help him with the drinks, leaving Gabriella with Taylor and Sharpay.

Chad and Taylor Danforth were recently newlywed, as Gabriella had learned a couple of days earlier. They'd kindly offered to help her with her boxes after seeing her struggle to move them all up the three flights of stairs. They'd faced the exact same predicament a few months earlier when they'd moved in, except they'd had the assistance of both sets of parents who had come into the town to visit and assist them with the move. So they took pity on the petite woman, helped her with the move and then invited her to their apartment for lunch since the only items in her fridge were currently a few apples, a tub of yoghurt and leftovers from the pizza she'd ordered in the previous evening.

In the process the trio had struck up an immediate camaraderie. Both women had strong academic backgrounds – Taylor was impressed with Gabriella's fast track through her undergraduate and subsequent post graduate studies at MIT and then Harvard, and even more impressed that the 26 year old woman was taking up a post at New York University, conducting medical research and lecturing in mathematics and chemistry. Chad and Taylor had attended the same high school but never really interacted a lot. They'd both moved to New York for college; Taylor matriculating at Columbia and Chad having been recruited by NYU to play college basketball. Chad had run into Taylor after a basketball game at Columbia in his third year playing for the Bobcats – literally run into her. He'd been calling out to a teammate who was heading in the opposite direction, Taylor had been talking on her cell phone and the two had barrelled into each other. After apologising and realising they knew each other, they'd arranged to meet up for coffee, after which they organised a lunch, after which they set up a dinner. One thing led to another and friends became dating became living together and they'd gotten married in October back at home in Albuquerque in a small, intimate wedding surrounded by their closest family and friends.

"So Taylor, you're working for the New York Post?" Gabriella asked, confirming the details she'd been told during her brief meeting with Taylor and Chad a couple of days earlier.

Taylor nodded enthusiastically. "I really fell into journalism. In high school I was involved with so many academic competitions but I found it was student politics and the yearbook that I really enjoyed working on. So I studied political science and journalism as my majors at college and ultimately I'd love to do high level political journalism. But I'll have to work my way up there."

"You have to start somewhere," Gabriella said with a firm nod. "And Chad is teaching PE at a primary school?"

"The Neighbourhood School," Taylor said, again nodding in confirmation. "Actually it's pretty close to NYU. It's on 3rd Street, which is one block up from Bleecker? But on the east side."

Gabriella though to herself. "And just past 1st Avenue?"

"Yeah, that's the one!"

"I went for a long walk one day, just exploring. I think I did go by there."

Gabriella was impressed with herself, the time she'd spent in New York throughout her childhood had been more so as a tourist than a local. Every time that she managed to navigate her way on the subway without studying the map intensively she cheered internally. This was yet another accomplishment that was making her feel like she could really fit in within this Manhattan bubble.

"And so you and Zeke are dating?" Gabriella asked the blonde. "How do you all know each other?"

"Funnily, we went to high school with Chad and Taylor, but I didn't really talk to any of them. Zeke had a bit of a crush on me back then but I played hard to get," Sharpay said proudly. "I finally agreed to go to prom with him. We both happened to move to California for college, I was studying dramatic arts at UCLA and Zeke studied at a culinary college. We stayed in touch and dated casually." Sharpay went on to explain that she and Zeke had been on again off again for many years and it was only after they'd both coincidentally moved to New York that things had become serious.

"I now work in PR for a fashion design firm," Sharpay said. "I always wanted to perform but I fell into business studies according to my father's wishes and while I was doing the theatre audition circuit he used some of his contacts to get me PR work and its all just sort of gone from there and I really love it. Zeke works as a pastry chef and had an opportunity with his work to come out here to work on establishing a new franchise."

"That's so sweet, and now you guys are all friends in this perfect foursome," Gabriella said, smiling at the irony that they'd all wound up at the same place in two couples and getting along as friends.

"Well, fivesome sometimes," Taylor said. "We hang out a bit with the guy I told you about, the one in the band who is playing tonight."

"Oh yeah, what's his story?" Gabriella asked conversationally, glancing around the room as the bar became more and more filled with people – and a large proportion of those people women. They were gravitating toward the stage, anticipating the band coming on shortly.

"His story is... complicated," Sharpay said tactfully.

"Chad and I used to hang out with him a lot, the guys were all best friends in high school But I think he gets weirded out that we're all couply and so he just goes off and does his own thing."

"He's gotten a bit... moody... over the years," Sharpay said, rolling her eyes.

Gabriella's eyes flew backward and forwards between the two girls, as though watching a tennis match. She could sense there was more to what they were saying, a whole lot more, and one of Gabriella's pet hates was being forced to witness a conversation that was veiled with so much history that she had no hope of following the true meaning of their words.

"Well he's been through a bit," Taylor pointed out.

"Oh boohoo," Sharpay said, rolling her eyes, clearly not as sympathetic to the troubles their friend had experienced as being an excuse for some of his behaviour.

Before Gabriella could press them to elaborate about what they meant, Chad and Zeke returned with the drinks to deliver to the girls.

"What did we miss?" Zeke asked.

"Just explaining to Gabriella how we all went to school together," Sharpay said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "As well as Troy."

'_Ah. A name is finally attached to this elusive Troy character_' Gabriella thought.

"You looking forward to the band?" Zeke asked, looking at Gabriella. "What music do you normally listen to?"

"My music taste is fairly eclectic. I like everything from Keith Urban to the Black Eyed Peas to Taylor Swift to listening to old school Beatles and Rolling Stones. But I guess if I had to pick a genre, rock."

"You'll probably like these guys then. They do mainly contemporary rock covers," Zeke said. "They have some originals but they leave those for the occasional gig they do where they actually charge entry."

"So they mainly perform at bars?" Gabriella asked.

"And they've done some college parties and even some high school dances. I think they might have done a 21st also," Taylor mused.

Some movement happened around the stage area and some girls up the front began to shriek.

"That's Steve, he's the drummer," Chad said.

"Do they have a lot of shrieky fangirls?" Gabriella asked, amused by the grown women at the front.

The bar had decent security, she'd been ID'd at the front door and she'd observed a bartender also IDing a few people. She'd never been a shrieky fan of any actor or musician and so the concept of being this crazy over a local covers band was beyond her area of comprehension.

"A few regulars. They're good looking guys," Taylor said.

"Hey!" Chad exclaimed.

"Don't worry, I still love you," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You'd better, Mrs. Danforth," Chad chided.

As the rest of the band members made their way out on stage, the shrieks escalated. There was Steve who had come out first and had taken his seat behind the drums. Sharpay pointed out, the lead singer, who tapped on his microphone and merely saying 'testing' elicited a shriek. His name was Andrew, and to make life confusing Andrew was also the name of the bass guitarist who was also the keyboardist when required. The former was referred to as Drew and the latter as Andy, to clarify things for everyone.

And then the final member of the band came out on stage. He picked up a guitar and stood behind the back-up vocals microphone. If the shrieks had been loud before, they were now deafening. But rather than wincing, or rolling her eyes, or commenting about these grown women acting like fourteen year olds – Gabriella felt a lump form in her throat. The mere sight of this man was eliciting a reaction that she'd never felt, not with any man, not even any of her ex-boyfriends.

He was wearing black and white converse that were scuffed up and appeared a little worse for wear. His blue denim jeans were straight leg. There was none of the skinny leg business that Gabriella detested; nor were they so baggy that the crotch hung around his knees. They were hanging low around his slim waist, revealing the top of his white cotton boxers with thin red and white striped detailing. His simple black v neck t-shirt had short sleeves that clung to his well defined biceps. Although the shirt wasn't tight, it was fitted enough to indicate the man spent a decent amount of time pumping iron at the gym. His facial structure was almost perfect. He had an almost youthful appeal, skin that looked as though puberty had never touched it. She couldn't quite decide whether his chestnut hair was meticulously styled to appear as though he woke up and left the house or if he literally hadn't touched it, with side swept bangs and an almost mop top cut.

However after ogling at the overall Adonis who stood before her, there was one feature in particular which stood out. Even from across the room, it was his striking blue eyes which captivated Gabriella. They were piercing, mesmerising,

Gabriella had already done the math, counted the instruments, realised that none of these other three men were Troy so this had to be Troy. Somewhere in the background she heard Sharpay leaning over and murmuring a confirmation of this, informing her that their friend Troy was the back-up vocalist and lead guitarist, but Gabriella wasn't listening. She wasn't capable of listening, of concentrating on anything but him.

"Is it hot in here?" Gabriella murmured, her cheeks suddenly feeling very flush.

"Take off your jacket," Zeke suggested, attempting to be helpful but oblivious to the real reason for her heat.

He gestured to the lone stool they'd commandeered - chairs in a bar were scarce and valuable property – and piled their coats onto. She complied, not breaking her stare, convinced that if she looked away from him for even one moment then something pivotal might take place and she would be the girl who missed out on seeing it. Her trench pulled away, now revealing the sparkly black scoop neck halter top she'd teamed with dark grey denim jeans.

Taylor glanced at Gabriella, taken aback by the intense, lustful stare toward the stage. Certainly she didn't know Gabriella well but this was a far cry from the vibe she'd been emitting thus far.

"They're all pretty hot, huh?" Taylor remarked.

"Yes, he is," Gabriella agreed absentmindedly.

Taylor was a little taken aback but she too became swept up within the beginning of the set, applauding for the band and decided to not worry too much about Gabriella. The opening song of the night began to play, a cover of Nickelback's 'Figured You Out.' The lead singer's voice was rough, perfectly apt for covers of Nickelback and the multitude of bands that had since emerged with a similar sound. It didn't surprise Gabriella when Sharpay leaned over and told her that they did quite a few Nickelback covers.

Gabriella wasn't paying much attention to the voice of the lead singer, although she could tell that he was good. The whole band had a great sound, they weren't mimicking the song note for note, it was their own version but without destroying the spirit of the original. Gabriella's attention had yet to shift away from this 'Troy' character who suddenly had become her favourite person on the planet, although she had never communicated with him. She was staring at his dextrous fingers as they flew across the strings of the guitar, her mind wandering to thoughts of whether his fingers would be skilful in other areas – thoughts that her mind would normally not experience and yet they were coming to her so naturally. In contrast with the roughness of his counterpart, Troy's voice was silky smooth and refined and on the whole sexy as hell.

Many women in the room were enthralled by the bands performance, in particular the performance of the guitarist. Troy was accustomed to the ladies who made regular appearances at their gigs and he wasn't ashamed to admit that it was largely because of him. In fact he'd been known to brag about the fact, and to even take advantage of it. Gabriella was transfixed, taking in everything that she physically could about this man. Occasionally he would glance toward his adoring fans, flashing a small smile or a wink in their direction and causing a momentary frenzy. He knew the power of reserving those actions to be used sparsely. He wasn't shy, rather he was focused. If anything his demeanour suggested an aura of cockiness, the proud smirk on his face when the girls would shriek. He was a picturesque example of a brooding, smug muso.

Gabriella considered herself a good judge of human behaviour and she sensed that the cocky exterior was merely that – an exterior, a guise. There was intensity within his expression as he became caught up within the music, executing a riff or hitting a powerful note. His performing style was fairly introverted; there were no outlandish or show off rock star moves. Instead he was focused upon playing each and every note with utter perfection. The man could get by on charm alone if he chose to do so, but he didn't.

Taylor nudged Sharpay, gesturing to Gabriella's stare which had officially escalated from lustful into a different place. It was beyond lust however, her head cocked to the side and eyes narrowed a little as she gazed at him, almost as though trying to see deeper inside. Sharpay smirked. They were used to women reacting to Troy in this way, since high school he'd had this inherent ability to spellbind members of the finer sex. But never would Taylor have anticipated that the woman she'd invited along in a gesture of good faith would become so awestruck.

"Gabriella?" Taylor said.

The petite brunette merely responded with, "Mmm?"

"Gabriella!" Taylor said, a little more harshly.

Gabriella finally tore her eyes away from the stage, cheeks flushed as she realised just how crazy she was acting and the impression she must be making upon Sharpay and Zeke who she'd just met, and Taylor and Chad who she only knew slightly more.

"Sorry..." she apologised automatically. "They're um... they're really good."

"We figured you thought so, you've hardly looked away in four songs," Sharpay remarked, glancing sideways at Taylor knowingly. "The guys are going to the bar again, do you want another margarita?"

"Oh no, I'm still..." Gabriella glanced down, about to gesture to the margarita that she'd hardly touched – or so she had thought. In fact the glass was now empty; she'd guzzled it down without even realising.

"Um... sure," she said decisively, finding herself wanting another beverage and not particularly wanting to argue that a cola was more appropriate.

"And a margarita for Miss Has-the-hots-for-Troy," Sharpay told Zeke loudly.

Zeke and Chad smirked; they too were not oblivious to the behaviour of the newest member of their group.

"Coming right up," Zeke said, chuckling lightly.

Gabriella's gaze went straight back to Troy but she was attempting to remain somewhat more aware of the company she was with, not wanting to make a complete fool of herself – although she was aware it may be too late to alter the impressions they'd already formed.

"Troy's single, you know," Sharpay commented.

"Huh? What?"

"He's single. Available. On the market."

Gabriella's eyes widened. "Oh! I um.... I just think he's a very good musician. And attractive. I wouldn't... I'd never... he's... he looks like _that_ and I'm..."

"And you're a hot young woman who is presently raping him with your eyes," Taylor said bluntly, surprised by her own verbosity – but that's the result of a handful of margaritas.

"I'm doing no such thing!" Gabriella protested, cheeks flushing.

"He's a good lay, I don't blame you," Sharpay said. Taylor glanced sharply at the blonde, who rolled her eyes and clarified, "So I hear. I would never go there with him. I have my Zekey, after all."

The set continued in much the same way for the next few songs, Gabriella gazing lustfully, Sharpay and Taylor being amused by Gabriella's fixation. They attempted to make small talk but Gabriella's ability to engage in conversation was somewhat hampered.

Intermission arrived and the girls escaped to the bathroom – travelling in packs as women do – leaving Zeke and Chad to guard the table.

. . .

It was the intermission and Troy was feeling grateful for the break. He had felt like he was under additional scrutiny that night although the crowd wasn't any larger than normal. While he performed he preferred to remain oblivious to the presence of his friends, although he knew that they were out there each and every Friday and during intermission he would always go over to acknowledge them for showing up.

All the years and experience and rejection and heartache hadn't hardened him completely, he wasn't oblivious or complacent of the support his friends gave him, support which he perhaps didn't entirely deserve. He shut himself off from them, one too many broken relationships and a disappointed father leaving him feeling a twang of bitterness toward his friends for the happiness that they'd all managed to reach. It was easier to exist within his own bubble than to pretend to be a part of theirs. He was happy for his newlywed best friend, he was happy for his friend who he knew carried around a diamond ring and was waiting for that perfect moment to pop the question. But he couldn't pretend to feel happy whilst subjected to their land of perpetual domestication and bliss.

"Hey guys," Troy greeted Chad and Zeke.

"Sup man," Chad said, a one armed half hug half pat on the back being exchanged. The same physical greeting occurred between Zeke and Troy.

"Great show tonight buddy," Zeke said. "Even if you are pretty much just a Nickelback tribute band."

A cocky smile spread across Troy's lips. "The ladies love it," he said matter of factly.

"They'd love it even more if you got rid of Drew and you just took over," Chad pointed out.

"Nah. I prefer it back there."

"Why, with the whole mysterious guy vibe thing," Zeke said, rolling his eyes.

"Something like that. Keep them wanting more, that's my motto," Troy said, innuendo running high.

"What about satisfying needs?" Chad asked continuing the innuendo.

"Oh believe me, I do that too," Troy smirked. "Very well. So well that they crave it over and over."

Chad and Zeke exchanged that look that Troy was familiar with, that judgemental look. Sometimes it came with a speech of, 'when are you gonna stop fucking around and get serious' but Troy wasn't in the mood for it that night and so he decided upon a quick change of conversation.

"Are your other halves here with you tonight?" he asked, gesturing toward the empty margarita glasses.

"Yeah, they went to the bathroom. We actually invited someone we met with us, she's new in our apartment building," Chad told him.

"Oh yeah, she hot?"

"Yes," both Zeke and Chad answered simultaneously.

"She uh... appeared to be enjoying the show," Zeke said coyly. "If you know what I mean."

"They all do."

As if punctuating the point, two bubbly blondes approached the table. They were two of the more forward regulars and would approach him each week.

"Hi Troy, great set so far tonight," Blonde #1 cooed.

"Thanks Jennie," Troy said cooly, flashing her a grin.

"I don't know if it's possible but your fingers seem more talented each and every week," Blonde #2 said flirtatiously.

"Yeah well.... they get a lot of practice," Troy said, continuing her innuendo, flexing his hands.

Both of the girls burst into giggles. Troy wasn't oblivious to what each of them hoped her advances would achieve, but truthfully he wasn't particularly interested in committing himself to either as a prospect.

"I hope you enjoy the rest of the show," he said, flashing them each other smile before turning back to his friends, sending the signal that he wanted to be left alone.

"Oh, here are the girls," Zeke said, spotting Taylor and Sharpay coming back across from the bathrooms with Gabriella in tow.

They'd encouraged her to plump up her hair and put on lip gloss, although she hadn't quite been sure why. But looking up and seeing the Adonis himself standing beside Chad, a lump formed in her throat and all she could do was pray that she didn't do something stupid like trip over with her Manolo Blahniks and fall on her backside. Up close he was even more beautiful than he had appeared the distance they were congregated away from the small stage. His eyes were brighter, his skin was smoother. He wasn't too tall – a plus in Gabriella's book, even with her heels she was short and she was now just a little shorter than him. And yet in person, he was that bit more real. Just as Godly, and yet more real.

"Why hello there superstar," Sharpay said, giving Troy a kiss on the cheek and a hug.

"Loving the new stuff from Dark Horse," Taylor complimented, hugging him a hug herself.

"Thanks," Troy said simply.

He was eyeing up the petite beauty with the brunette hair so dark it was almost ebony. It fell in gorgeous waves past her shoulders. Her eyes were widened, looking at him in slight shock and slight awe.

"Troy, this is Gabriella. She's just moved into our building. Gabriella this is Troy," Taylor said, then adding unnecessarily, "He's our friend who is in the band."

"Hello," she breathed; her voice raspier than usual.

Troy was all too familiar with this gaze, with the eyes that stared into his cyan orbs as though trying to determine whether they were in fact real. However there was something about the gaze from this woman that was different to that which he would usually be subjected to. He couldn't quite pinpoint what exactly it was that was different. He did know, however, that it was different in a good way. As much as he played up to the attention, sometimes it got old, sometimes the lustful stares played off as desperate. This woman however... from this woman, the attention was more than welcome.

"Why, hello there."

"It's nice to meet you," she managed to say, stuttering a little.

"I believe the pleasure is mine," Troy said, offering her his hand.

She tentatively accepted it and Troy lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing his warm lips in a kiss to the back of her palm. Gabriella shuddered slightly involuntarily, a good shudder, an amazing shudder. Just a kiss on the back of the palm was shudder worthy – she couldn't help but wonder what more this man was capable of.

A gaze passed between Troy and Gabriella. His stare penetrating into her, almost as though trying to read her thoughts. She swallowed, trying to think of something, anything, vaguely intellectual or even sensical to say.

"Um... I... the show is awesome," she finally said.

Troy smiled. "Thank you. Glad you're enjoying. I love performing."

Silence fell between them again. Her eyes were now downcast, avoiding looking directly at him. Gabriella was a little afraid to look at him, afraid that looking was staring. She didn't want her attraction to be so blatant.

"So, Chad, come with me to get more drinks," Zeke said, tugging at Chad's arm.

Troy turned. "Wait... hang on..." he glanced around and spotted a bar staff member collecting glasses onto a tray.

"Jimmy!" Troy called out.

Jimmy glanced up and grinned, coming over to the group. "Hey Troy," he greeted the musician. "Great set so far tonight, man."

"Thanks. You remember my friends, right?"

Jimmy nodded and smiled at Troy's group. "Hey guys."

"Don't suppose you could organise a round of drinks for my friends." Troy's tone wasn't hopeful, it was knowing. It wasn't the first time that they'd scored some free drinks at Troy's persuasion. The fact was that the small bar had average popularity every other night, and it was Troy and his band which brought the customers in. The guys would stay after their performance to socialise for a few hours, which kept the clientele around as the bass pumped and the dance floor became filled. A round of drinks for the star of the show and his friends was the least they could do.

"Of course."

"A Bud for each of the guys, margarita's for Taylor and Shar..." Troy paused, flashing Gabriella a smile. "Another margarita for you beautiful?"

Her eyes widened slightly, cheeks flushing, and she nodded. She hadn't particularly wanted to drink another but 'no' wasn't exactly a thought that was to cross her mind in conjunction to anything he might ask her.

"Three margaritas," Troy confirmed.

"And your usual?" Jimmy asked.

"Of course."

Zeke and Chad followed the bartender over to the bar so they could carry the drinks back over. Troy leaned in a little closer to Gabriella. "You blushed," he stated.

"I... what?" she asked, panicking slightly, worrying that he'd noticed her staring at him whilst he'd been performing in the first half of the set.

"When I called you beautiful," he clarified. "You blushed. I don't tell many women that they're beautiful."

"You don't normally tell this to women?" she repeated, a small smirk and disbelief in her tone. "Why do I find that hard to believe?"

Troy smirked at the insinuation that he flirted with many women – he couldn't exactly deny it. He enjoyed flirting, he oozed charm and wasn't afraid to turn it on and reap the rewards if he felt so compelled to do so.

"Well, I don't say things that I don't mean. I'm not a liar. If I say it, then it's true. And you are beautiful, beautiful," Troy said, a cheeky smile on his face.

Her cheeks flushed yet again and she dipped her head shyly. He sensed that it wasn't just being 'star struck' and that rather flirting with strangers wasn't a common past time for the young woman, which was appealing to Troy. He felt drawn to her innocence, drawn to her guardedness. It wasn't as though she were bland – he'd already been struck by her wit, calling him on his flirtatious ways. Like a moth to a flame, he knew that this woman was someone he had to get to know a little more.

"So. No boyfriend?" Troy asked.

Gabriella's eyes clouded over a little. "You think I'm not the kind of girl a guy would want to be in a relationship with?" she asked, a little too quickly.

He was taken aback, charm and cockiness falling away for a moment. "No," he said genuinely. "Quite the opposite."

"Then why did you assume that I don't have a boyfriend?"

"Well... Gabriella... you wear no ring on this finger," he said, reaching over to gently graze his right index finger against her left ring finger. "So I know there's nothing official. And you said you were new in town. And frankly, I think if you were taken, any guy would be crazy to allow you to go to a bar without him there to fend off the hordes of men who undoubtedly are stunned by your beauty."

"I could be in a long distance relationship," she countered.

He was worried. Despite any questionable morals Troy may live his life by – he wasn't in the habit of hitting on taken women.

"Are you?" he asked bluntly.

She faltered. "Um. Well, no."

"So you're single?" he asked, lips curving upward.

"Yes..."

"Good."

Gabriella's eyes narrowed a little. "Good? You make it sound like..."

"I just like to know these things about beautiful, sexy, witty women who I am engaging in conversation with," Troy said innocently.

Normally, Gabriella would have been able to acknowledge that Troy was attractive, begin to converse with him and realise he was a charming flirt who possibly had an agenda behind his flirtation. However on this occasion, it was more than acknowledging that he was attractive. She was attracted. Big time. And she had two margaritas in her and the charming talk she might normally use the rational part of her brain to be dubious of – well she wasn't so much hesitant and rather it simply formed an additional level to his charm.

Zeke and Chad returned with the drinks; Zeke was carrying the three margarita glasses and Chad was carrying the two beer bottles and a bottle of water.

Gabriella was a little fascinated – yet another morsel of information to file away in her list of things that she officially knew about this man.

"You don't drink?" she asked, as Chad handed the water over.

"Not while performing. I prefer to keep a clear mind."

"You really love music, don't you?"

"Why do you ask?" he asked carefully.

"You just... when you play. There's this... passion... in your eyes," Gabriella attempted to explain, a little smile on her face as she thought back to the expression she'd witnessed in Troy's eyes as he was playing. "It's really quite beautiful."

Troy was a little taken aback. He was accustomed to music being utilised by women he met at the bar as a conversation point. It was the obvious place to start. He'd been asked about whether he liked singing or playing more, if he wanted to do more of their own music, how long he'd been playing. But he couldn't ever remember being asked about his love of music, his passion. He'd also never heard it described as beautiful. Talented, sexy, hot – brilliant even. But 'beautiful' was a term that was a bit foreign being used in conjunction to his music. It threw him – not in a bad way, but for the second time in their short conversation, he found himself feeling stripped of his ability to put up the cocky front and instead being stripped back to... well... to just Troy.

"Umm... thank you. I... yeah. I love it. Music was never something that anyone expected I'd be doing but..."

"It happened for a reason, I guess," Gabriella mused.

"Something like that." Troy was closed on the subject, and Gabriella sensed that, choosing to not press him about it.

"So uh... it appears that my friends have abandoned us," Troy remarked.

Gabriella glanced up. Truthfully the moment that Troy had spoken to her, she'd forgotten that she was even there in the company of other people. She saw that the two couples had segregated themselves, giving Gabriella and Troy privacy. Gabriella was a bit mortified at the insinuation.

Inherently, she knew what was going on. She didn't date a lot but she wasn't a recluse and she wasn't oblivious to when a man was making advances on her. His tone, his body language, his stance, the way he was looking at her – it all accumulated to tell her that he was interested. But there was that part of Gabriella that was in disbelief. She was hit on a lot, but never by guys who she was interested in. The guys she was interested in were taken or gay or in professions that would make a relationship inappropriate – she'd had a bit of a crush on a professor at MIT, and her GP back in Boston was rather attractive as well. Gabriella was rational and practical and logical, she planned her life. That evenings plan had been to politely come along, socialise for a little while, and then make an excuse that she was tired from all the moving and unpacking and escape back to her comfortable apartment and curl up with a good book. It was difficult to fathom that a man who she was desperately yearning, a man who she was having R rated thoughts about, seemed to be reciprocating attraction at least on some level.

Troy had experienced a rough week, and he would be lying if he'd said that he hadn't come to the bar with the thought in the back of his brain that tonight might be a good night to keep his eyes peeled for what potential was out there. He had standards, no matter how stressed or horny he was, he wasn't going to sleep with just anyone. But he was in the frame of mind where Gabriella's potential was more than just potential. Even if he'd come that night wanting an early evening, she would have caught his eye. There was no doubting his physical attraction to her and as he spoke with her, there was no doubting that there was an entire package there was that appealing. Sex, even on a physical level, was about a bigger package, a vibe that he got from a woman. Gabriella was sweet, but with bite. Each time she blushed, each time she giggled, each time she shuddered in response to his hand grazing conversationally along her arm – Troy was becoming more determined to ensure that the thoughts floating through his mind would actually come into fruition.

Sixteen minutes it had taken. Sixteen minutes for Troy to decide that this girl was going to be _his_ that night.

"Hey Troy, dude." He glanced up to see Andy, the bass guitarist, approaching. "Time to meet backstage."

Troy nodded. "Give me a minute." Andy's eyes flickered toward the woman that Troy was presently talking to, and smirked slightly, knowing what was taking place.

"Okay. Take two," he said slyly, and disappeared toward the door that headed to the backstage room.

"Are you staying after the show tonight?" Troy found himself asking rather directly.

Normally he might be a little more coy, but time was of the essence and at that point, he suspected that he may need to be a little direct otherwise risk her deciding to leave and him missing his opportunity.

"Um... I really hadn't planned on it."

"You should. It's awesome. They pump some dance tracks, the dance floor gets hot. It's a lot of fun."

"Hey Troy!" A pretty girl with dark auburn hair approached, glancing at Gabriella, her brown eyes glinting with shades of green from jealousy. "Do you remember me? I'm Tanya. We were chatting a few weeks ago."

Troy gave her a smile. He was appreciative of his fans, but he wasn't so appreciative of girls coming up and interrupting him while he was talking with someone. It didn't surprise him to see a slightly hurt look in Gabriella's eyes, she slunk away toward where Taylor and the others were standing.

"Of course I remember you, babe. Listen, I'd love to chat but I'm actually due backstage to get ready for the next half of our set."

"Oh okay. Well, good luck, and I'll talk to you after the show?"

"Maybe I'll see you around, I'm here with some friends," Troy said, not indicating commitment but not wanting to be rude.

She looked a little dejected, picking up on the hint and backed away. Troy spotted Drew indicating to him impatiently from across the crowded bar. He held up a finger, asking for another minute. Well, not really asking. Short of coming over and dragging him away, there wasn't much they could do if he was late. Troy reapproached his friends.

"Hey, so, enjoy the second half of the show," he said to them.

There was a chorus of 'thank you for the drinks' and 'good lucks' from his friends. Troy gently grazed his finger tips down Gabriella's bare arm and then back up again. She was avoiding eye contact; the 'visit' from the auburn haired girl had broken her from the reverie of feeling like this was actually something that she could do; go out to a bar, chat with a gorgeous guy and see where it could lead. But she couldn't deny the feeling inside as his fingertips grazed against her skin; they gently reached to her chin to tilt her head up slightly, her chocolate eyes lifting from where they were staring at his worn in Converses to look into his bright eyes.

"Stay after the show. Please," he murmured.

He didn't want to beg, but he'd officially run out of lines and he knew that the interruption had been detrimental to his progress.

"If I do... are you going to save a dance for me?" Gabriella found herself asking, knowing – but not caring – that she sounded just like the airheads who were glaring at her with jealousy.

"_A_ dance?" Troy asked, emphasising the singular form of 'a'. "There is no one else I'd rather be dancing with. I'll be monopolising your time tonight."

She swallowed, her top teeth clamping onto her lower lip for a moment before asking somewhat shakily, "What if... what if I don't want to only dance with you?"

He leaned over, hot breath tickling against her ear, and murmured, "Believe me. You _want_ to dance with me. I'm very good at... dancing."

"Are we still talking about the same type of dancing?" she asked.

He smiled. "We're talking about whatever type of dancing it is that you want to be talking about."

Troy pressed a chaste, lingering kiss to her cheek, wanting to have kissed her properly but concluding that perhaps it was better to follow his own advice and leave her wanting more. If the look in her eyes was indicative of what she was feeling, he knew he'd been successful.

~.~

_**S**__ is for the simple need_

_**E**__ is for the ecstasy_

_**X**__ is just to mark the spot coz that's the one you really want_

_Sex is always the answer, it's never a question_

_Coz the answers yes, oh the answers yes_

_Not just a suggestion if you ask the question then it's always yes_

_**S.E.X. by Nickelback**_

~.~


	2. Two

**THE SIMPLE NEED**

**AN:**

Wow! I mean seriously... wow! Thank you soooo much for all of your wonderful feedback, each and every single person that reviewed. Know that even though I fail epically at responding, I read EVERY review and each one brings a smile to my face. Thanks also to all of the people who have put this story into their alerts and favourites, I'd love to hear your thoughts if you have a few moments spare :)

A special thanks to everyone at Fan Forum who has been soooo incredibly supportive of this fic. Thanks for turning the Vanessa FanFiction thread into a 'post photos of Zac with guitars' thread for a little while ;) My muse really needed it.

If you read Someday: This Moment; there has been a delay due to uncontrollable circumstances. I apologise and endeavour to publish the next chapter as soon as possible.

Finally, this is going to be more than a three shot. Maybe four or five chapters. :)

**~.~**

_I'm loving what you wanna wear, wonder what's up under there_

_Wonder if I'll ever have it under my tongue..._

_I'd love to try to set you free, I love you all over me_

_Love to hear the sound you make the second you're done_

_**S **__is for the simple need_

_**E **__is for the ecstasy _

_**X **__is just to mark the spot coz that's the one you really want_

'_**S.E.X. by Nickelback**_

**~.~**

**THE SIMPLE NEED: TWO**

Troy leaned over, hot breath tickling against her ear, and murmured, "Believe me. You _want_ to dance with me. I'm very good at... dancing."

"Are we still talking about the same type of dancing?" she asked.

He smiled. "We're talking about whatever type of dancing it is that you want to be talking about."

Troy pressed a chaste, lingering kiss to her cheek, wanting to have kissed her properly but concluding that perhaps it was better to follow his own advice and leave her wanting more. If the look in her eyes was indicative of what she was feeling, he knew he'd been successful.

Gabriella gazed after him as he sauntered away toward the backstage door, her fingertips lightly grazing her cheek where his lips had pressed against her soft skin. He glanced back behind him one final time, gazes meeting across the room. He gave her a wink before finally disappearing through the door to join his band mates.

She picked up her margarita, her lips enclosing over the straw and taking in a long gulp, ignoring the slight burning sensation of the strong alcohol as it hit the back of her throat.

"Wow, go Gabriella. I wouldn't have picked you to be a Troy-boy groupie," Zeke remarked, her new acquaintances making their way back over to the table they'd shuffled away from.

"Someone is going to have a good night tonight," Chad added teasingly.

"We were just talking," Gabriella protested, knowing that her words were weak.

"Troy doesn't just talk," Chad informed her knowingly.

Sharpay turned to Gabriella, and bluntly enquired, "When was the last time you had sex?"

Gabriella's eyes widened. She'd never been particularly forthcoming with discussing her sex life with friends, and so the concept of discussing it with people she barely knew was a bit ludicrous. "Okay, I met you like less than two hours ago so I seriously don't think you should be asking me that!"

The boisterous blonde was not deterred; in fact she was all the more determined to press forward. Five minutes of conversation with Gabriella Montez was enough to sense that she was a good person, a little repressed, but she had a good heart and a spunk that was skimming beneath the surface and waiting to be let out. "You have had sex, haven't you? I mean, if you haven't then..."

"Of course I have!" Gabriella became a little defensive – in a similar way to the defensiveness she'd exhibited when she'd interpreted Troy as insinuating that she couldn't possibly have a boyfriend. She was 26, she had no moral objections to sex before marriage and although she didn't have an overblown self esteem, she knew that she was relatively attractive, or at least, that there was something that men seemed to find attractive about her.

"But the last time was a while ago. I saw that momentary pause where you had to think about your last time. If you have to think about it, it's been too long," Sharpay said knowingly. "I say if Troy is interested, just go with the flow and enjoy it!"

Gabriella sighed irritably. "Just because Troy is interested, it doesn't mean that I am. I'm not... this is... I don't do this! It's not who I am!"

"Maybe it should be," Chad commented. "You seem like you could use a good..."

"Chad!" Taylor chided, slapping him on the arm.

"What?!" he exclaimed, rubbing his arm at where his wife had struck him. Even though it had been playful and in jest, it still surprisingly hurt.

Gabriella picked the straw out of her margarita, tossed it into an empty glass that was on the table, and tipped the margarita glass back to consume the remainder of the cocktail.

"I'm getting another round," she announced abruptly.

"Oh, I'm good with..." Zeke began to say, gesturing to his half consumed bottle of Budweiser.

"I don't care. I don't want to miss any of the show and it's my turn to buy. So I'm buying now."

She marched toward the bar, stumbling a little but catching herself. Taylor was quick to follow the petite brunette.

"Hey, are you all right?" Taylor was attempting to be gentle, needing to coax her new friend out to speak candidly, but the noise of the crowded bar area with people waiting to be served was forcing Taylor to speak at an elevated volume.

"Just feeling the need to be drunk, that is all," Gabriella said.

There was a forced cheeriness to her tone that didn't go over Taylor's head. Taylor raised her eyebrows. There was nervous energy radiating from her new friend, and she felt a certain protectiveness. She was the one who had invited Gabriella out. She and Sharpay had known Troy would come visit them, and they hadn't acted to make Gabriella aware of Troy's flirtatious and charming tendencies, even when they'd been aware of Gabriella's blatant attraction. And so she felt a little responsible for any negative fallout that may occur as a consequence. So Taylor grabbed Gabriella by the hand and pulled her away from the bar and toward the hallway near the bathrooms.

"Gabriella... talk to me. Please," Taylor said, now able to speak a little more softly that they were in a quieter area.

Gabriella let out a sigh. Truthfully she wanted to talk. She was sick of being guarded and with a trio of margaritas in her system, she was willing to let go of that barrier. "Can I be completely honest with you and trust that you won't think less of me?"

"Yes."

She leaned forward and whispered into Taylor's ear. "I'm really, really, really attracted to him."

Taylor hid a smirk. "I wouldn't have known," she said, sarcasm dripping.

Gabriella gave a tipsy giggle. "Well I am. Like... ridiculously attracted. I don't do this stuff. Never, ever. There's this boring Gabriella who sits in my shoulder, like the devil, and she tells me that it's wrong and immoral and that sex is about love, not lust, and that this is crazy and irrational and that I'll regret it." She drifted off, her eyes hazing over a little.

"I'm sensing a but?" Taylor prompted.

Gabriella nodded. "But... I have this feeling somewhere inside... you know, somewhere here..." she gestured to her lower abdomen. "That just... that wants him so badly, that doesn't care about the consequences, that doesn't care about tomorrow and just wants to do what feels right tonight."

A lazy smile spread across her lips. She didn't know what would eventuate if she allowed herself to forget about ramifications. At a minimum if it meant she had a conversation with a really hot guy then that would be more than she would have gotten otherwise. Merely feeling his lips against hers would be a bonus. However she couldn't help but know somewhere deep down that the energy between them had been electrifying, and as brief as their conversation had been, if things continued to build from where they'd began – there would be a whole lot more than kissing taking place.

"You know, there's nothing wrong with that. I mean ultimately it's your own sense of morality but... sometimes sex can just be sex," Taylor said frankly, before quickly covering herself and explaining further. "I love Chad very much, but before we were dating, I had a few one night stands. It doesn't make you less human – if anything it makes you more human."

Gabriella allowed this advice to sink in, before asking somewhat randomly, "What did you do for New Years this year?"

Taylor thought for a moment. "Sharpay managed to score us entry into this fancy party at a nightclub, there was free champagne, it was a really fun night. Why?"

"This New Years, I sat alone in my hotel room wearing my monkey pyjamas watching the fireworks on television," Gabriella said, her voice bitter and tainted with self loathe. "I received this 'happy new year' text message from my mother, telling me that she was out at a party and hoped I was having fun. My own mother who is in her fifties was out partying and here I was, in the city that never sleeps... alone."

"Well, you were new in town," Taylor pointed out.

"Doesn't matter. I got a couple of obligatory invitations to house parties from work colleagues I'd just met I'd just met and it would have been the perfect opportunity to get to know people. But I made excuses. And so my new years' resolution was that I wanted to start being more spontaneous, to take risks, to ignore logical, boring, rational Gabriella and just... and just do the things that I _feel_ are right."

"So what do you feel is right tonight?"

"I feel like I should just go with the flow and see what happens." Her tone was decisive, empowered.

"Good girl," Taylor said, and then hesitated. "Except..."

The confidence of moments earlier faltered. "Oh no... do you think I made the wrong decision? Do you think I should listen to my brain?"

"No! I don't. But just... I hope you realise..." Taylor trailed off. "You know what, never mind."

"You have to say it now!" Gabriella insisted, rolling her eyes. "'You can't say that much and then stop."

Taylor sighed, and then spoke carefully. She didn't want to directly influence, rather she just wanted Gabriella to have all the facts before making that decision. "I've known Troy a long time. At heart, he's a good guy. Even before we were really friends, I never really had anything against him personally; we just weren't in the same social circle. But I just hope that you realise that... he's not exactly a commitment kind of guy. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Gabriella blinked. "Taylor. I might not be Miss Social Butterfly but I'm not naive. I'm in a bar fantasising about having sex with a musician who I've officially spoken to for a total of like, fifteen minutes. I'm not picking out bridesmaid dresses in my head or anything."

Relief filled Taylor's face. "Okay. Good. Just... just checking."

Gabriella swallowed, her teeth delicately chewing on her lower lip. "I just said that, didn't I?"

"Said what?"

"I, Gabriella Montez, am fantasising about having sex with a musician I've spoken to for a total of fifteen minutes." She shook her head slightly, as though shaking the disbelief away. "I need that drink. We're going back to the bar."

Taylor obliged, the girls queuing up at the bar and managing to select one of the quicker sections of people, going behind a lot of guys just having beers poured rather than behind the girls who would have fancier drinks made. Gabriella promptly ordered their three margaritas and two bottles of Budweiser, and the bartender efficiently mixed up the cocktails. When the drinks were placed down in front of the girls, Taylor's brows furrowed at the sight of one of the three cocktails.

"Um... we didn't order this," she said, gesturing to the creamy looking cocktail.

"Troy insisted that if the young lady here came back to the bar, that we make this particular drink for her," the bartender said, gesturing to Gabriella. "He promised that you would enjoy it."

Taylor was about to protest further but Gabriella cut her off. "Does it have alcohol in it?" she asked the bartender.

He nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"Then it's great."

Gabriella pulled cash out of her wallet but the bartender waved it away. "It's been covered. Enjoy the show."

Even though Taylor had drank more than Gabriella, she suspected she was a little more clear headed and quickly picked up the three cocktails with her two hands, leaving Gabriella to carry the beers.

"What was that about, it's been covered?" Gabriella asked Taylor.

Taylor shrugged. "It's free drinks, I'm not about to argue with it! I bet Troy just asked them to give us more freebies."

"He wants me drunk," Gabriella said bitterly. "Fantastic."

"Well, you wanted to get more drunk, so it seems that all in all, it works out okay for everyone," Taylor said dismissively.

They arrived back at the table, Taylor carefully setting the cocktails down.

"Oooh, what's that?" Sharpay asked, eyeing off the creamy cocktail.

"I don't know. Apparently Troy told them to make it for me when I went to the bar. Said that I'd enjoy it," Gabriella said, shrugging. She picked up the glass, tentatively taking a sip out of the black straw, before her eyes closed and her head tipped back slightly a smile crossing her face.

"Oh my God that is heaven in a glass," she said, breathing in deeply. "And I don't even know what it is."

"Let me taste," Sharpay requested, holding her hand out. She was the queen of cocktail hour, and had no doubt she would be able to identify the cocktail. Already she had a sneaking suspicion.

Gabriella obliged, passing the glass across the table. Sharpay took a sip, a slight smile spreading across her face. "That is an Orgasm. Troy ordered you an Orgasm," she said with a smirk.

The guys snickered and Gabriella's eyes widened.

Chad laughed. "Subtle Bolton, subtle."

"Well. That um... well." Gabriella was a little flustered, and her solution was to pick up the cocktail and take a long sip.

A shrill shriek from the front of the room caused people to look forward, seeing that once again the drummer had appeared on stage.

"They're starting back," Sharpay observed.

Suddenly all bashfulness about Troy's gesture with the drink was dropped, Gabriella's attention fixed entirely upon the small stage. She'd contemplated briefly moving right to the front of the stage to get perfect view, but for some reason she preferred it from their safe distance back. She could ogle without risking having her eyes gauged out by other fangirls. And she didn't want to appear desperate. Because there was the Troy on the stage who she'd been attracted to, and there was the Troy she'd conversed with who she was also attracted to, but on a different level. On a more real level.

Just like the first half of the set, the band continued with playing relatively safe mainstream contemporary rock. None of them had a great deal of time to dedicate to the band, it was just something extra they did on weekends and only practiced once a week, so they didn't really have the time to invest in learning new songs, they stuck to slightly older songs from the late 1990's and early 2000's and threw in some new ones – such as from the latest Nickelback album. Overall, it suited Gabriella's music taste perfectly. Even if the lead guitarist and backup singer hadn't captivated her, she would have enjoyed their music, with Counting Crows, Kings of Leon, Matchbox 20 and Oasis all featuring within their set list.

To the unobservant eye, Troy just appeared to be performing as he would every other night, and perhaps looking out into the crowd a little more often than usual. However the observant eye could see that there was a pointedness to his sneak glances.

He was watching her.

He wasn't being too blatant about it, he was still performing and needed to get the job done. But his gaze penetrated straight into her somewhat glazed chocolate eyes for brief moments, those brief moments enough for Gabriella. With the Orgasm registering in her system, she was finding herself feeling increasingly compelled to march straight up to the stage and to pull the man away. She didn't like him being up on display. She didn't like hearing the shrieks of grown women when there would be an instrumental bit and his guitar playing was the feature of the section. She didn't like when he would smile in their direction, knowing that they relied upon having fans to maintain this gig. She had no claim to him and yet she wanted to scream to them all to back off because that night – he was to be hers. Whatever that should entail.

They'd already performed _Burn it to the Ground_ and _I'd Come For You_ from Nickelback's 'Dark Horse' album, but there was one final song from the album they'd been rehearsing and wanted to test on the crowd.

The people who knew the song went off immediately, the distinctive guitar riff indicating what song was coming up. Gabriella recognised it as well, being a Nickelback fan and in particular liking Dark Horse. Her cheeks automatically flushed. She was the kind of girl who liked to keep everything about sex private and behind closed doors. If she was watching a movie with her mother and the content became a bit risqué, she would automatically become a little uncomfortable. And so a song which by title – S.E.X. – was so blatantly about what she liked to keep private – it had the tendency to induce embarrassment.

However this experience was causing a flush of a whole different kind.

It wasn't until the pre-chorus that Troy was actually meant to join in, his voice blending in and harmonising with the lead singer. During the first verse it was business as usual, occasional glances around the room, winking at the women at the front. But once the pre-chorus began, Troy's gaze penetrated straight into Gabriella's eyes. There was nothing discreet about his stare, nothing coy.

_**S **__is for the simple need_

_**E **__is for the ecstasy_

_**X **__is just to mark the spot coz that's the one you really want_

It was blatant, his eyes reeking of sex. He mimed his way through every word of the chorus, singing aloud the lines he was actually meant to sing. He only looked away from her for the briefest of periods, to glance at his band mates with their silent forms of communicating and signalling one another.

_Yes, sex is always the answer_

_It's never a question_

_Coz the answer's yes._

_Oh the answer's yes_

_Not just a suggestion_

_If you ask the question then it's always yes_

By the end of the first chorus, Gabriella couldn't handle the intensity of the gaze, her glazed eyes shifting away and shifting about the room. Troy could be playing and singing along to a song about cotton balls, and with that stare, succeed in eliciting a severe reaction from her. Singing about sex merely served to heighten the intensity – and although Gabriella would feel uncomfortable to admit it aloud – to heighten her arousal.

One thing was for certain – the band couldn't finish quickly enough. In that moment, the rational Gabriella devil had completely left the building.

. . .

After the set was complete, it was Gabriella who dragged Taylor and Sharpay with her to the bathroom, pushing through the crowd to beat the rush. She knew that Troy would take a few minutes to pack up but there was this voice in the back of her brain that couldn't help but worry that if she was not present when he emerged into the club, it would take about two point seven seconds for his attention to be diverted to one of the gorgeous women who fawned over him and for Gabriella to miss out on her shot before she even really had the chance to attempt to impress him. She did her business and then stood in front of the mirror fluffing her hair beneath the hand dryer and reapplying lip gloss.

"I wish you'd told me that Adonis was going to be here. I would have dressed nicer," Gabriella commented as Taylor emerged from her toilet cubicle.

"Adonis?" Taylor repeated.

"You know, the figure of West Semitic origin who became a part of Greek mythology and in modern literature is used as a figure of youthfulness and attractiveness and..."

"I know who Adonis is. I was just amused by you labelling Troy that way."

"Don't you think he's like, completely perfect?" Gabriella asked, blinking slightly.

"See, I knew Troy back before he became hot and when he was just very pretty," Taylor mused. "I can admit that he is attractive but I just can't be attracted to him."

A flush came from the nearest toilet cubicle to the sinks and Sharpay emerged, having overheard the exchange.

"She's right. Troy's like a brother or something. But you – you're welcome to him."

Gabriella glanced at her thin silver watch. "Okay, are you guys done?"

"Calm down, he'll be helping to pack their equipment away for a little while," Sharpay said, while washing her hands. She quickly dried her hands with a paper towel and then quickly examined Gabriella. "Can I make one quick modification?"

"Umm... sure?" Gabriella said warily.

"Okay... don't be alarmed. I love my boyfriend and I am not attracted to women," Sharpay warned before reaching forward, grasping onto the bottom underwire of Gabriella's strapless bra, pulling it down and then pushing it back up.

"Hey!"

"Much better," Sharpay said with a decisively nod, before pausing. "Wait, and this." Her final touch was to pull down Gabriella's halter top, just the slightest amount, revealing a touch of cleavage. "Gorgeous. I'm so jealous that you didn't even attempt to dress up tonight and yet you look perfect."

Gabriella rolled her eyes, her arms folding across her chest a little, feeling slightly violated but really being beyond caring. "You approve now? We can go?"

"Yes, let's go."

The bathroom was beginning to crowd up and Gabriella led the trio away. Her eyes lit up upon seeing that Chad and Zeke was standing at their table without any additional company.

But their fivesome wasn't alone for long, as within minutes, Troy and his band mates appeared from the backstage area. Gabriella was facing the other way but she could hear the slight commotion, and gripped onto Taylor's arm.

"Is that them?"

"Yes. Now be cool!" Taylor said, rolling her eyes.

"I am cool. I'm perfectly cool. Don't I seem cool?"

"Well, other than the gripping onto Taylor's arm, you appear totally normal," Zeke observed.

"Oh." Gabriella sheepishly dropped her hand from Taylor's arm.

"Hey guys," Troy's silky smooth voice came, as cool as a cucumber. He'd slid into their circle around the table between Gabriella and Sharpay.

Gabriella stared at the table, attempting to appear calm and natural but internally, she was melting just at the proximity of his location.

"Hey man. Second half of the set was even better than the first," Chad complimented him.

"Well you know, save the best 'til last."

Gabriella felt a hand lightly rest on the small of her back and could deduce it wasn't Taylor's hand. Taylor's hand wasn't this large, Taylor's hand couldn't possibly cause tingles to radiate throughout her body.

"I see you stayed, beautiful," Troy murmured softly, leaning over so she could hear him over the din.

To say he was pleased to see her was an understatement. He'd never packed up their equipment as quickly as he had that evening. The thought of her leaving, or even worse, the thought that he may have emerged to see her being snapped up by some other guy – it was horrific. And so seeing her still there with his friends had been a good feeling. He felt like half the challenge had been getting her beyond first impressions, beyond that point where she had the time away from him to rationalise things. He couldn't control those things. But while he was with her – he knew he had the upper hand. He knew how to read the way that a woman was reacting to his advances. He knew how to play up to her desires. He knew how to affect her and make her desire him.

And if Troy was reading Gabriella's reaction to his presence right, then he knew that it wasn't going to be too much of a challenge. He could see that she was trying to act nonchalant, but trying was the operative word. She couldn't control the shiver, and she couldn't hide the look in her eyes as she glanced up at him.

She swallowed. "Well... you did ask me to stay, after all."

From that moment, the pair was encased within their own bubble. Taylor and Chad, Sharpay and Zeke – they didn't exist. Neither did any of the drunken patrons who surrounded them, gradually gravitating toward the dance floor as the DJ began his set, the bar taking its turn toward a club for the evening. Gabriella and Troy were standing close, each time they spoke shifting closer toward the other, not wanting to shout and ruin the ambiance between them but the noise of the room prohibiting conversation at normal volume and distance apart.

"That I did. And thank you for staying," he said simply. "Did you like the song that I dedicated to you?"

Gabriella knew what he was referring to, but she chose to play dumb.

"I wasn't aware you'd dedicated a song to me."

He smiled. The heated gaze they'd maintained throughout a significant portion of S.E.X. couldn't be boiled down to a casual gaze. He knew that she knew what he was referring to, and she knew that he knew she was just playing dumb. Nonetheless, he chose to play along and explain it to her.

"Maybe I wasn't explicit enough. You see, there was this song in our set which we played for the first time ever tonight. And I just couldn't keep my eyes away from you... the lyrics resonated for some reason. So unofficially, the song was in fact dedicated to you."

"The lyrics resonated?"

He leaned over closer, and in a soft voice began to sing in her ear.

"_I'm loving what you wanna wear, wonder what's up under there, wonder if I'll ever have it under my tongue..."_

Gabriella's eyes fluttered closed momentarily, an unmistakable gasp escaping from her lips that was border lining upon being a moan. Troy smirked, deciding to continue with the next lyric.

"_I'd love to try to set you free, I love you all over me, love to hear the sound you make the second you're done..."_

His hand rested lightly on her waist for a moment as he pulled back a little. "So yes... the lyrics resonated. I can keep singing, if you like."

"I can't say I'd argue with that concept. You have a beautiful voice," Gabriella murmured.

Just like the previous time where he'd been singing that song on stage – it wasn't only the content itself which was stimulating. It was first and foremost his voice, the sensuality within it, the sensuality of having his lips so close to her hear and singing those words to her.

"Speaking of sounds you make when you're done..." Troy said lewdly, and gestured toward the empty cocktail glass in front of her, a smirk filling his features. "Did you enjoy your Orgasm?"

Gabriella giggled and confessed, "I did."

"If you play your cards right..." he paused, and once again leaned further forward so he could murmur into her ear, "that could be the first of many orgasms tonight."

His right hand ghosted lightly down her upper arm, squeezing gently. Gabriella felt herself flush lightly just from the graze of his finger.

"You were thinking about it just then, weren't you? Just like you were thinking about it when I was singing?"

Gabriella narrowed her eyes slightly. "That's rather presumptive of you."

"You're not denying it."

"You're a lot of talk. I'd like to see you put your money where your mouth is."

"Oh you would, would you? Is that an invitation? Because there's this backstage area just through that door, and I guarantee you that number two and three can take place almost immediately."

"Number two and three?" Gabriella enquired, before realising what he was inferring. Her eyes widened, cheeks flushing. "Oh."

"You're so gorgeous when you blush."

"I kind of hate it," she confessed. "I can't even pretend that this is something I do on a regular basis."

"_This_ being?"

"Whatever you and I are doing right now."

"You've never talked with a man before?" he teased.

"I've never talked with an attractive man who orders me a cocktail called an Orgasm and has the bartender tell me how much I'll enjoy it."

"It's just the name of a cocktail," Troy said teasingly, before turning slightly serious. "Nothing is happening here unless you want it to happen. Okay?"

Gabriella nodded, knowing that he wasn't the kind of guy who was about to coerce her into something. "Okay."

"How many drinks have you had?" Troy asked.

"Three... or is it four?" she pondered. "Four."

"Four cocktails? At your size? And I'm guessing you don't drink often?" Troy had brought a water bottle out with him which he'd set down upon the table. He picked it up and thrust the plastic container at her. "Drink that, and come with me."

"That was very commanding of you," Gabriella teased, but she wasn't about to argue with him.

His hand took a hold of hers to pull her through the crowd and to the bar. He waited at the end where there was a sign saying it was a no service area – but no area was no service to Troy Bolton. As they waited, his arm slung across her shoulder – making it seem like he was keeping her close to him within the crowd, but in reality, he just wanted the contact. He _needed_ the contact.

He leaned across when the bartender arrived, promptly made an order which was brought over efficiently. A shot of a dark liqueur was placed onto the bar, which he promptly tossed back into his throat. He then picked up a glass of bourbon and coke, and handed Gabriella another creamy cocktail which she promptly sipped from before they'd even left the bar.

"It tastes different," she commented.

"It's half strength. The first was quite potent."

"A half strength Orgasm?" Gabriella asked, eyebrows raising teasingly. "That's all you're capable of?"

"I'll make up for it later, I promise," Troy promptly shot back with a smirk. "Come on."

Again their hands entwined and instead of returning back to the table with the others, Troy led Gabriella further into the back of the room where some small booths were against the back wall. A few of them had reserved signs on them, and he promptly gestured for her to slide into the booth, and then slid in after her. There was enough room for maybe four people, five at a squeeze, but Troy chose to sit as closely to her as he could, their legs pressed up together.

She became serious, and turned to him. "Troy?"

"Yes beautiful?"

"Why half strength? And why the water? I would have thought you'd want to get me drunk." That was what she'd assumed when he'd organised for another round of their drinks to be paid for without telling her.

Troy was a little taken aback by this interpretation. He shook his head firmly. "No, Gabriella. I'm not in the habit of taking advantage of drunk women. Shedding inhibitions is one thing, but any more and it won't be a coherent decision. I don't wanna be that guy that you wake up and regret... regret whatever may happen between us. You should never regret your decisions, even if they are made purely out of impulse and to adhere to your physical urges."

"You do realise that if I was completely sober, I wouldn't even be sitting here talking with you?"

"Yes. But you would have gone home regretting that you were too scared to follow your instincts, your instincts that told you that this is something that you want. A few drinks allows you to shed your inhibitions and follow your instincts."

"And you care about whether I regret things? You care about how I would feel about... whatever may happen?"

"Of course I do," he said seriously, before adding teasingly, "Manhattan isn't as big as people think. It's not wise to make enemies."

Gabriella smiled, her right hand resting upon his left knee. "Beneath all this... bravado... you really are a good guy beneath it all, aren't you?"

Troy paused, not sure how to respond to that. It was true. Deep down he was a good guy. He didn't want to deny it but he didn't want her thinking he was some kind of misguided spirit either. He decided upon a somewhat teasing, somewhat serious response. "Maybe. But let's keep that between you and I."

She sensed that he didn't want to discuss the point, and nodded. "Okay. Deal."

"So. Gabriella. Tell me about yourself. I know that you're really gorgeous and that you live in the same apartment building as Chad and Taylor and that is pretty much it."

She giggled. "Okay. Well. I grew up moving around about a million different cities. I went to college in Boston, I fast tracked through my undergraduate at MIT and then through my studies at Harvard Med." She spoke pretty quickly. She wasn't ashamed of being intelligent but she was always wary of people interpreting that she was bragging. She wasn't, she simply had to explain how it was that she was 26 and already in the life position she was in – it was because she completed her tertiary studies at an accelerated pace.

Troy let out a low whistle. "Fast tracked through MIT and Harvard? Okay."

She didn't acknowledge his awe, but merely continued with her explanation. "I never really wanted to practice medicine, I'm more interested in research. I worked for a medical research lab for a couple of years and I was just offered a position to start at NYU teaching undergrad and doing research of my own. So I moved into town in December, and I just moved into my new apartment a few days ago."

"You're a professor?" he asked, before adding, "That's really hot."

She giggled. "I would have thought an exciting guy like yourself would find it rather boring."

He shook his head. "Smart chicks are sexy. Hang on... so you're also technically a doctor?"

"Um, ish. I haven't completed my residency though."

"You're getting hotter and hotter by the minute."

She blushed once again, and Troy was still fascinated. His thumb came up to graze against her cheek. "Don't be embarrassed. You should get used to people complimenting you. Obviously people are dumb and don't compliment you enough."

She shrugged, deciding upon saving her blushing cheeks and changing the topic. "So tell me about you. Just the basics. Other than Troy, high school classmate of Chad and Taylor and now member of really hot Manhattan based band... what are you guys called anyway?"

"Well... we had a name but we found out there's another band out there with that name so we're kinda between names at the moment."

"What was your name?"

"Little Black Book."

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "And here I was thinking that you wouldn't even bother collecting the phone numbers of your conquests."

Troy couldn't help but laugh, and be impressed that she was able to make fun of his ways even when she was in the process of becoming one of those 'conquests' as she had eloquently labelled them.

"Of course I collect them. But in my cell, not in a book," he smirked. "Anyway yeah... so, grew up in Albuquerque. Came here for college. Majored in music and education to my father's dismay. I taught for one year after graduating and hated it and now I sorta... do a whole bunch of jobs. I'm assistant manager of a vintage record store. I teach some private music lessons. I also have my own DJ equipment and I do some parties and stuff. And of course there's the band."

"What do you mean, to your father's dismay?" Gabriella asked.

He paused and scratched the back of his neck as he took a long sip of his bourbon and coke. "Umm... I used to play basketball. I'm sorta self taught with the guitar, I never did music properly in high school. Guess he expected me to do the basketball thing. I like the sport but... just not for a career, you know?"

"That must have been hard, going against his wishes," she said softly. She could hear the bitterness in his tone, despite his efforts to be casual about the matter. Obviously it was something that still stung somewhere deep down.

"I think it's harder now because I really don't know what I want to be doing. If I'd given basketball the flick and then become super successful doing something else, it would have been better."

He gave her a grin, not liking the look of sympathy she was casting upon him. "So you're new in New York? Do you like it?"

Gabriella paused. "So far, definitely. I love this part of the city in particular. I don't really know many people yet but I was never exactly a social butterfly back in Boston either."

"I find that so hard to believe," Troy mused.

"Why is that?"

"Because you're funny and witty and gorgeous," he said bluntly.

She shrugged. "I worked a lot in Boston, I was at the lab more than I was at my apartment. I'm hoping to change things here. So far it's been pretty quiet but... I think Taylor and I might become good friends."

He'd somewhat tuned out as she'd responded to him, because somehow she'd succeeded in getting a smidgen of her cocktail smeared across the corner of her mouth. A smile was playing on his lips and Gabriella trailed off, realising he wasn't paying attention.

"What? What's funny?"

"Oh, nothing is funny, it's just cute. You uh... you have a little something..." he turned to face her, his right hand reaching up and his index finger gently swiping at where the cocktail had been. He held it up so she could see, and then promptly suckled his finger lightly. "All gone."

And then it struck them. That moment in time when two people are gazing at one another and they are just inches apart, when breaths hitch, when she subconsciously runs her tongue along her lower lip to moisten the flesh.

A part of Troy had formulated his 'game plan' whilst he'd been packing up their equipment backstage, and within that plan it had included going slow and not rushing into things. But in that moment, he didn't care about his plan of attack. Troy was a man of instinct, his instinct said to kiss her and there was simply nothing to do but to follow that instinct.

His right hand rested lightly upon her waist as he dipped toward her, pressing his lips against hers softly without another moment's hesitation. He'd intended for the kiss to be brief and tender, but it was Gabriella who responded, Gabriella who moaned into his kiss and coaxed his lips to continue to be parted. Her hands came to rest at the back of his head, the fingers of her right hand toying lightly with the hair at the nape of his neck. Their rhythm was perfectly in tune, no awkward bumping of noses, lips moving together slowly, luxuriously, in wide, deep kisses.

As they pulled away, the gaze which followed was pure lust. Troy hadn't been so aroused by a kiss since he was a teenager. A part of him wanted to demand that she assure him that they were on the same page because he was at the point where he wasn't sure he could handle it if the flirtation went further and it didn't eventuate in the bliss he was fantasising about. But he didn't need her to verbalise it. Any doubt that had been within her mind had pretty much been swept away.

"Troy?" she breathed.

"Yeah?"

"Why me?"

"What do you mean, why you?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"You... you are the most stunning man I've ever seen, like, ever, anywhere, hotter than the movie stars and everything. And I currently am afraid to go anywhere without a body guard because the girls here would probably come gauge my eyes out for swooping in and stealing their guy. You could have any of them. And yet you're here with me. Why?"

He tucked a strand of her bangs that she was growing out back, it as presently hanging slightly over her eye. "Because you just had to ask that question," he said simply, before pressing his lips to hers in a short, tender kiss.

The clearing of a throat caused Troy and Gabriella to look up. Chad and Taylor were standing there, smiles playing on both their faces.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we wanted to let you know that we're leaving," Chad informed them. "Sharpay and Zeke left about ten minutes ago."

"Oh okay. Well have a good night," Troy said, not even caring to be discreet about wanting to get rid of them.

"Here's your coat, Gabriella," Taylor said, hanging the black woollen trench over.

Gabriella smiled and accepted it, placing it down onto the seat beside her. "Thank you. And thanks for inviting me."

"Yes, thanks for inviting her," Troy chimed in. She hit him teasingly, the back of her hand thwacking against his chest, causing him to laugh.

Taylor leaned over to give Gabriella a hug goodbye, murmuring in her ear, "You okay?" Gabriella nodded definitively as Taylor pulled back, giving her a small assuring smile. "Well you have my number, so um... call me if you need me. Any time."

Gabriella understood Taylor's implied warning that she could call her that night if she needed help at any time. "Yes I do. Thanks."

Troy wasn't lost on the exchange between the girls, and he wasn't entirely surprised, it was just like Taylor to be all protective and Mother Hen of her new friend. He was somewhat grateful – he didn't like the idea of Gabriella being alone in New York without anyone she could call in a bind; it wasn't the kind of city for a young woman to be put into a position of not having 'in case of emergency' people. However it was clear that Gabriella was fine, and Taylor should know him well enough that he wasn't about to abandon her in the middle of a strange neighbourhood and leave her to fend for herself.

"Well thanks for coming guys, as always I appreciate it. Give us a call, we'll chill," Troy said, wanting to wrap up the goodbye.

Chad caught the hint, and nodded. "Come on Tay. Night Troy, night Gabriella." He escorted Taylor away, once again leaving Troy and Gabriella alone.

He picked up his bourbon and coke and finished the beverage, and then gestured to the little that remained of her cocktail. "How about you finish that and we go dance?" he suggested.

She nodded obligingly, and picked up the glass to complete the drink. Dancing served ulterior motives in allowing them to become physically closer, however sitting and talking with this woman, Troy was finding himself revealing more than what he knew how to comprehend. Sometimes women would press him to talk about himself, as soon as conversation became anything beneath the surface he would shut them down, turn the tables, ask about their life, distract them with a kiss or a graze of the hand over a damp panty-covered mound. But with Gabriella, for some reason, it didn't feel wrong. It felt natural. Which was somewhat scary for Troy. The longer he'd spent sitting conversing with this woman, the more attracted he was to her, and the more that attraction was expanding to be more than just physical. It was the way she carried herself, the sound of her voice, the way she spoke, the way she looked at him.

He wasn't sure what to do with these levels of attraction and so dancing was all around the best solution.

"Um, what should I do with this?" Gabriella asked, indicating to her coat. "I'd rather not leave it here."

"Umm... I can put it backstage if you want?" he suggested.

"Okay," she agreed with a nod. "Um... I might just go to the bathroom if that's okay?"

"You're not afraid you'll get your eyes gauged out in there?" he teased.

"It's a risk I'll have to take, I guess," she giggled.

"I'll meet you outside the bathroom," he said. "Actually... do you want me to put your purse back there too?"

Gabriella hesitated. Truthfully she'd like to be able to dance without the impediment of a purse, but she was wary of letting it out of her sight.

"I promise it'll be safe back there, it's a locked area, I have a key. Only staff and the band members have access and literally only one staff member goes in there anyway. Chad and Taylor would kill me if I lost your stuff anyway."

"Umm... okay..." she said, thrusting her purse out at him. "Oh wait, hang on, I should get my lip gloss." She went to reach out for the purse but Troy held it away.

"Who are you trying to impress? Because if it's me, I'm just going to kiss it off your lips anyway," he pointed out with a grin.

She smiled and sighed. "Okay fine. I'll meet you back out here."

He pressed another kiss to her lips, murmuring by her ear, "Don't take too long."

** ~.~**


	3. Three

**THE SIMPLE NEED**

**AN: **As always thanks for the awesome support everyone. I'm hugely appreciative of every word of feedback I get for this piece. Hope you enjoy this third instalment :)

Thanks to Nickelback, Rihanna, The Veronicas, Chris Brown, T Pain, Kings of Leon, Ne-Yo, Lil Wayne, Lady Gaga, John Mayer and other artists who assisted me with this labour of lust... I mean... love.

A reminder that **this story is rated** **M**. If you can't work out why then you have missed all the innuendo of the first two chapters. I suggest taking a look at the title of the song which inspired a great deal of this story.

**~.~**

**THE SIMPLE NEED: THREE**

_"No" is a dirty word,  
Never gonna say it first,  
"No" is just a thought that never crosses my mind_

_..._

_  
Sex is always the answer, it's never a question_

_..._

_It's always yes_

**S.E.X. by Nickelback**

**~.~**

The music pulsated through her veins, embodying her limbs, her core, her being, her spirit. All that existed was her, the dance floor, the bass – and _him_.

At first their movements had been cautious with a safe distance between them, or as safe as the crowded dance floor would allow. As more people were drawn toward the flashing lights and pumping music, the tighter the squeeze became, and the distance between them gradually evaporated entirely.

Sly touches of the waist and arm evolved into a grinding rhythm; sometimes she would twirl around and thrust her ass against his denim clad hardened length. Innocent occasional caresses of his hands over her taut, slender frame became increasingly blatant, to the point of groping freely at her supple breasts and teasing her erect nipples, running down her back to cup her firm behind and pull her in closer, pelvis meeting pelvis, her heat meeting his throb.

Gabriella's hips moved in time with the beat, knees bending, body pressing up against his as she gradually moved lower and lower; his hands which had been at her waist travelling up her frame. Cheeks flushed, her chocolate eyes stared up at him with a lustful gaze as she was around the height of his belly button. It took a severe amount of control on Troy's part to not yank down his fly and request her servitude in the middle of the dance floor.

"Fuck..." he grunted.

His azure gaze darkened as he rubbed her way back up his body, the smirk on her face indicative that she was very well aware of the effect she was having upon him. There was a reason for dancing to be viewed as sinful. Their interactions had escalated from playful, to suggestive, to blatant foreplay. She stood on tiptoes, her lips just barely grazing against his in a playful kiss. She pulled away just as Troy went to further the kiss, his lips left hanging in the air. Gabriella turned to mould her back into his form. He swept her ebony locks away to allow his lips to the crook of the right of her neck and then suckling lightly. Her hands reached behind her, delicate digits clutching at the hair at the nape of his neck. He continued to suck at the sweet spot on her neck, hearing an unmistakable gasp emitting from her lips.

He released the skin and murmured in her ear, "You like that, huh?" before continuing to press a trail of kisses along the soft skin.

Suddenly she felt a desperate, consuming urge to kiss him and twirled around. Her arms snaked behind her neck once more and she practically forced his lips down to meet hers – not that he particularly minded. The kiss was longing, passionate, intense. They'd practically given up the pretence of dancing, not just kissing in a zealous frenzy.

The alcohol had all but disappeared from her system and normally she'd be highly aware of people's perceptions but Gabriella didn't care. She didn't care who was watching. She didn't care who was judging her on the basis of her demeanour. She was still drunk – but drunk on him, drunk on his touch, drunk on his taste.

The music, and him – that was all that mattered.

She moaned into his kiss, feeling his hand as it worked its way beneath the denim at the seat of her jeans, fingers clawing at her lace panties which covered her behind as their kisses continued, lips dancing, tongues stroking.

"Get a room," Troy heard a voice request beside him teasingly.

He pulled away from his Goddess, glaring at band mate Drew as he passed by with his girlfriend. Drew was glancing back with a smirk on his face. Troy wasn't opposed to the recommendation, and his eyes flickered toward the back of house band area.

"Taken," Drew called back quickly.

Troy rolled his eyes and turned back to Gabriella. She was looking at him curiously. Hair a little tousled, lipgloss completely worn away, a red mark accented on the skin of her neck – she was delectable. His right hand cupped her cheek, thumb gently stroking as he leaned down to press his lips to hers softly.

"Want to take a break?" he asked.

Whilst dancing and grinding she'd felt completely fine; but after a moments pause, her feet were suddenly feeling like lead. Her Manolo Blahniks may be pretty but they weren't the best shoes for a night of dancing.

"Yes please," she requested with a slightly shy nod.

It occurred to him that with the exception of pants and mewls and gasps, those were the first words he'd heard from her mouth in a while. He led her by the hand toward the bar where he obtained a couple of bottles of water, and then lead her back toward his booth, still vacant with its reserved sign intact. Gabriella collapsed onto the bench, her feet eternally grateful. As she took a long sip of water, her parched throat thankful her for the cool liquid refreshment. Troy slid into the seat beside her, once again sitting up close. His hand automatically fell to rest upon her knee, fingers tracing small circles on the inside of her thigh.

"So when's the last time that you went out dancing?" he enquired.

Gabriella scoffed a little. "I honestly cannot even remember."

"You seemed like you were enjoying yourself," he observed, recalling the look of abandon on her face as she'd moved in time with the music.

She nodded. "I resist going out all the time... and yet every time I do go out, I enjoy myself so much. If I'm in the right mood and I like the DJ, I could just dance for hours and hours." The smile on her face was one of pure joy, one of those smiles which caused a chain reaction, Troy smiling at the sight of her smiling. "Plus it helps when I'm with good company," she added with a cheeky expression.

"Good company? Is _that_ how you'd describe me?" Troy enquired, eyebrows raised. "Of all adjectives, the best you have is _good?_"

"Mmm... nice company?" she supplied, in mock thought, a finger on her chin.

"Nice? Me?" he scoffed, before leaning over to press his lips to hers in a rough kiss.

"Yes... kissing me like that is totally the way to prove that you're some big bad guy," she said with a smirk, before musing, "You remind me of like... a little Maltese Terrier.

Troy did a double take, his eyes boggling. "Ex-_cuse_ me?"

"They like, get all huffy and bark and try to act tough but in reality they're just this bundle of fluff and cuteness and it's all bark with no bite," she explained her analogy.

His eyebrows creased. "Gabriella... please don't mistake me for being someone that I'm not." He couldn't help but feel concerned at something in her tone – as though she was gaining some sort of faith that she could be a white knight and rescue him from his ways.

"Troy... I know who you are... I know what... _this_ is," Gabriella said, swallowing as she spoke the words. _This_ being a one night stand. If she'd had any disillusions earlier, Taylor would have quashed them with her foreboding warning. She shot him her dazzling smile. "And I'm fine with it. I'm a willing participant here."

He felt placated, looking at her in the eye and seeing nothing but sincerity. She wasn't telling him what he wanted to hear. She understood. In many ways for Troy that was a more important factor than attraction and chemistry. He didn't want to have to deal with the morning after conversation. He didn't want to have to sit down and explain that 'I'm just not in a good place right now' and 'it's not you, it's me' and 'you were great babe, I'd love it if we could be friends.' In particular he really didn't want to have to instigate that exchange with Gabriella. For some reason he sensed it would be more difficult than normal, making it even more important that they were on the same page.

"Okay," he murmured with a small smile on his face. He pressed a short kiss to her lips, pulled away and examined her for a moment. She was nothing short of breathtaking, and he wasn't one to hold back from expressing his thoughts. "Fuck, you're hot," he mumbled, his lips dropping to her collarbone.

"Mmm, look who is talking. Good company... nice company... hot company...sexy company..." Gabriella rasped, her fingers raking through his hair.

Lips fused together and hands began to roam the crevasses of one another's bodies. Even with the loud music and the sound of fellow patrons talking and laughing, it was difficult to remember that they were still in a public place, the rest of it somewhat floating away. With past boyfriends, Gabriella had drawn the line at kissing in public, anything beyond that was meant for the privacy of one's home. However with Troy, it was as though they existed within their own bubble. There was a protective dome around their little private cushy booth, shielding them from the staring eyes of the outside world.

His hands had been focusing upon her upper body, but now a hand fell back to her thigh, working its way up. She trembled as his fingers danced around her inner, upper thigh; shuddered when they moved a few inches up and began to stroke ever so sensually at her denim clad mound. She pulled away from their kiss, a little breathless, and Troy's lips immediately latched themselves back onto her neck, feeling the desperate need to keep his lips focused on any aspect of her smooth, supple body. He planted a trail of nibbles up her neck. A shiver ran down her spine as his tongue flicked at her earlobe.

"Are you wet?" he murmured by her ear, fingers continuing their dance over her sex.

"Y-yes," she stammered in a moan. Her hips bucked, wanting to feel his firm touch, the feathered strokes driving her crazy.

He grunted slightly, imagining the sensation of his fingers sliding among her slippery, wet, warm cavern. His thoughts flashed to something other than his _fingers_ thrusting within her depths.

"Fuck, I wish you were wearing a skirt," he groaned by her ear.

His thumb pressed over where he approximated her clit was located; and if the zealous fervour of the kiss she pressed to his lips was any indication, he'd approximated with deadly accuracy.

"I wish I was wearing a skirt too," she confessed in a whisper.

Her cheeks flushed as she spoke the words, practically feeling his hand on her bare thigh, going beneath the material of a skirt, creeping up to dart beneath the lace of her pale blue boy short panties. The distance between them was infuriatingly far, exchanging kisses and touching his body was not enough contact for her liking. She shifted her weight, a leg swinging over Troy's body and hoisting over to straddle him. His hands fell to her backside, encouraging her to sink her weight down on him, caressing her ass as he pulled her even closer.

"This would be difficult if I was wearing a skirt," she murmured into his ear before initiating a steamy kiss.

He kissed her back with equal energy before tearing his lips away to respond, "If you were wearing a floaty skirt it would be perfect... you could go to the bathroom and get rid of your panties, then all I'd have to do is pull down my fly, shove down my boxers..."

Troy guided her hips, hoisting her to lift her body weight slightly up, and then guided her to pull down at the precise moment as he thrust his hips up, creating maximum contact between the throb in his jeans and her heated core. It was the perfect illustration of precisely what he was insinuating could take place. Gabriella might have been shocked or offended in the suggestion that she would take part in such activity; however in that moment she was so attracted, so aroused, so entranced within the moment – that there was a part of her that was reprimanding herself for not choosing a floaty skirt when she'd selected her outfit for the evening. She pressed her lips to his, one hand toying with the hair at the nape of his neck and the other at the hem of his shirt, the black cotton being pushed up his chest and allowing her fingers to trace over the hardness of his defined abdomen. She could feel his hardened length pressing right against where she so wanted him, and yet it wasn't enough. There was no doubt that what they were doing was not grinding, it was blatant dry sex.

Gabriella moaned into his kiss and pulled away to take a proper breath. Troy's tongue licked lightly at her neck before placing soft kisses along her collarbone and drifting down until he was suckling at the visible skin of the swell of her breast. Straddling his lap, she was at perfect height, allowing her to throw her head back and simply revel in the sensation of their sexes thrust together, mimicking a dance of love making, the feel of his lips and tongue against her smooth skin. Her eyes were closed, mouth slightly open, struggling to refrain from moaning aloud.

He retracted his lips from her breast, pouting a little for a moment. But when she felt his hip thrusting stilt and his fingers begin to pry with the button of her jeans, she froze for a moment. She couldn't react. She couldn't look around to see who was watching. All she could do was stare into his eyes, his mesmerising blue eyes. She was clutching at his chest, her grasp tightening as his fingers pulled down the fly and managed to squeeze their way down to dance across the lace of her panties. It was a tight fit without a lot of room to move, but if anything that was serving to heighten her desperation. He was touching her, but not quite the way she wanted; a step closer than before but her needs were being left unfulfilled.

"Someone's been a naughty girl," Troy murmured, a smirk on his lips. "All wet and aroused. Hardly appropriate for such a good girl."

She whimpered and moaned by his ear, "Oh God... Troy...." she moaned by his ear, feeling the pressure of his index finger rubbing at her clit through the lace.

She forced her lips to his, afraid of giving her ecstasy away through her vocal responses and needing the kiss to swallow them up. She shifted back ever so slightly, giving him a little more room and exposing the engorged bump at the front of his jeans. She'd been grinding against him for what felt like both hours and also a few minutes at the same time; and yet she'd not touched him directly with her hands. Her right hand which had been stroking at his warm, hard abs ran down his firm body, reaching the snail trail which guided her down lower. She bypassed his belt buckle and her hand finally came into direct contact with the denim prison which encased his throbbing erection. It was his turn to grunt into their kiss, merely the contact of her hand over his member causing his arousal to heighten further.

"Gabriella?" he rasped, pulling away from the kiss, intense blue eyes meeting her clouded chocolate gaze. "Feel how hard I am?" She nodded, squeezing lightly for effect before continuing her light stroking pattern. "All for you, baby. This is going to be fucking incredible, I just feel it..."

Somehow he managed to manoeuvre his index finger beneath her panties, finally having direct contact with the slickness of her warm folds. She whimpered as he traced his powerful digit in an intoxicating circle around her entrance, finally slipping it into her depths.

"Oh shit..." she moaned, forgetting to censor herself in public.

His free hand came up to press a finger against her lips. "Sshhh... don't want to get kicked out. This place has some standards, and even if they do love me they'll draw a line somewhere."

As he spoke the words, he wondered if he was making a huge mistake. They'd just slipped out – partly because he was aware that people around them were very well aware that they were canoodling and engaging in foreplay but he suspected that Gabriella wasn't quite as coherent. And the moment that they registered and she began to react, he _knew_ that he'd made a mistake. Her eyes widened, as though suddenly becoming aware of what she was doing. Her hand snatched away from his crotch and yanked his hand away from her intimate area.

"Oh my... I... I can't... I can't do this..." she stammered, about to move away from her position straddling him.

"Ssshhh calm down," he said soothingly, immediately on damage control, his left hand holding her waist in place. The notion of _not_ going home with this woman that night was simply not able to be comprehended by Troy at that point. "This is... this is natural, Gabriella. Two people, being attracted, acting on that attraction..."

Her right index finger came up to his lips, mimicking his action, silencing his speech. "Troy..." she said, a coy smile on her lips. "You can save your breath, you don't need to repeat your spiel. I just mean... that I can't do this... here. In public. You know?"

The worry immediately washed away from his expression, relief coming over him. "Oh... okay. That's... um... really good."

"You were so worried then," she teased him, promptly pressing her lips to his softly. "That was cute. You must really want me."

"Yes," he said boldly. "And..." he rose his right index finger which was still coated with the glisten of her arousal. "It seems that you desire me also." He placed his finger inside his mouth, withdrawing it slowly, sucking the juices away.

The look of desire on her face was unmistakable. She zealously kissed him, tasting herself on his lips, the kiss escalating until once again they were in the throes of a passionate make out, like two teenagers with only minutes until parents were due home.

It was Troy who broke the kiss, this time with a very specific intent.

"At the risk of sounding really cliché... do you wanna get out of here?" he murmured.

To make the point of exactly why he wanted to 'get out' of there, he brought his lips back down to suckle at her breast. She let out an involuntary moan.

"Mmm," was all that she could bring herself to say.

He smiled as he looked back up at her. "Is that a no?"

Two hours ago, the thought of saying _yes_ to a relative stranger suggesting they 'get out of here' would have been completely foreign to Gabriella. Something that only a dirty girl with less than savoury values would do.

Two hours had proved to be revolutionary.

"No," she gasped.

His eyes clouded over, for a brief moment in time bewilderment filling him and wondering where the hell he'd gone wrong, how he'd read the signals wrong, whether he'd been confused when she'd clarified her intent just minutes earlier. She read the perplexity on his face, and hastily clarified.

"I mean... no... it's not a no."

A smile filled his features. "So it's a yes?"

"Troy... when it's you that is involved... it's _always_ yes."

He grinned. "Good lyric recall there"

"I really like Dark Horse, I already knew the song," she reminded him.

"What's your favourite song on the album?"

Gabriella paused, contemplating the question, before responding with a suggestive look, "I'd... Come... For You."

Troy's eyes darkened, his breath hitching. If she'd just said the song title without innuendo, he would have made the innuendo filled crack for her. But hearing her say those words, emphasis placed upon the word 'come' – it was blatantly arousing.

"You'll _come_ for me all right," he said, his gravelly tone almost a growl. He kissed her once more, passionate but short. "Umm... you might want to do up your fly before we stand up."

Gabriella giggled, the sound of her laugh utterly magical to Troy, and she obeyed him, quickly doing up the zipper and button and also smoothing her blouse down.

"How do I look?" she asked.

"Smoking hot," Troy declared. "And kinda like you're on the way to being completely ravished. But that's cool. The chicks will be jealous of you and the guys will be jealous of me."

She gave him a look as she retracted her body from its position straddling him. He immediately missed the feel of her being so close to him and after standing up, he held his hand out to help her up and didn't let go as they moved away from the booth.

"Okay..." she said, glancing toward the front door and working out the best path to navigate through the throngs of people

"We have to go through the back area," he said, reminding her, "our coats and your purse are there."

She'd literally forgot completely about her purse, grateful that he had some semblance of common sense remaining. He led the way, navigating through the crowd. Gabriella was the recipient of more than one jealous stare from a number of Troy's fangirls who were partying the night away. When they reached the doorway, Troy fumbled in his pocket for his key. As she turned the key in the lock, he turned back to his companion.

"Umm... you might wanna put your hand up like this." He held his left hand up to the side of his face, as though shielding the peripheral vision to his left.

"Why?" she asked in a puzzled tone, cocking her head slightly.

"There's a lounge backstage and when Drew interrupted us while we were dancing before, he was heading back there. I'm guessing that by now they've progressed way beyond making out."

Gabriella's eyes widened, her cheeks flushing. "Oh..."

"It'll just be for a second while we pass through that bit," he smirked. "I'll protect you, I promise."

She tagged along behind him, clutching to his elbow with her right hand, leaving her left hand free to guard her vision as he had recommended. He quickly retrieved her purse and both of their coats, and continued the way through. He was feeling a desperate need to be out of the club and within the confines of her apartment. Her delicate hand was stroking the small of his back, that touch alone being enough elicit dirty thoughts within his brain – not that his brain had been thinking anything _but_ dirty thoughts since the moment he'd laid eyes upon this woman back in the intermission – which felt so long ago but in reality was only a couple of hours earlier.

He turned around, spontaneously pulling her toward him for a kiss, a lustful kiss, a lingering, desperate kiss. They tumbled out of the club via the back entrance, Gabriella struggling to retain a hold of her purse, now having to dedicate a small amount of her energy toward ensuring the strap remained on her shoulder, energy she'd prefer to channel in the direction of retaining maximum contact between her hands and his body.

The back door emerged into an alley which was also a very small parking area for a select few staff. She was so swept up in the lips of Troy and the hands of Troy and the abs of Troy, refusing to desist from their desperate kisses. They almost stumbled into the black Lancer that belonged to the club manager, just barely bypassing it and Troy finding his back pressed up against the exterior wall of the club, her hands pawing at the bottom hem of his t-shirt, the material lifting slightly as she sought the sensation of his skin beneath her fingertips. He couldn't even feel the cool chill of air meeting the skin that was exposed between his t-shirt and the top of his boxers.

She pulled back from him momentarily and he used that moment of separation to his advantage, grabbing her by the arms and flipping their positions, leaving her pressed up against the wall with his forearms against the wall, caging her in. There were no thoughts of getting dirty marks on her dry clean only coat, rather the thoughts that filled her mind were whether Drew and his girlfriend may vacate the couch in the back room any time soon because it seemed all too far to walk up the alley to hail a cab. He'd shifted back slightly and now Troy's dextrous hands, the hands of a musician, were busy playing music of a different kind. One had worked its way up her halter top, shifting the lace of the right cup of her strapless bra down and allowing his thumb to make direct contact with her erect nipple, flicking at the sensitive nub whilst he groped at her breast. The other hand was poised over her sex, fingers lightly stroking over the lightweight denim.

"Oh fuck! Sorry man!" Troy and Gabriella snapped apart, looking up to see one of the bartenders, escaping out into the alley on his break for a smoke. "I'll uh... I can just go somewhere else."

"It's cool," Troy said swiftly. "Stay here. We're taking off anyway."

And with that he practically pulled Gabriella's arm out of the socket to yank her in the direction of the main street. She was somehow managing to keep up with his stride, her heels click clacking as she practically jogged along.

They paused on the street momentarily for a short kiss before Troy turned his concentration to the street in front of him, arm out. He'd always had luck with hailing cabs and it only took a couple of minutes to successfully flag down an available vehicle. He held the door open for Gabriella, enjoying the view of her ass as she bent over to step into the backseat and shuffle along.

"It's the corner of Bedford and Grove, right?" he said to her in a low voice, confirming the location of the building that she'd moved into.

"Umm... yes but..." she hesitated, and bit her lip. "Can we go to yours? I just um... I've hardly unpacked anything, there's boxes everywhere, I haven't even bought a bed yet. It's just a mattress on the floor at the moment."

Troy was a little taken aback. His instinct was to tell her that he didn't care, that they didn't need more than a mattress on the floor for what they had planned. He always went to the woman's place, _always._ Even when he'd had girlfriends, they very sparsely came to his place, at least within recent years. He wasn't ashamed of his apartment, it was a small and modest studio but there was nothing wrong with it. Rather, his apartment was very private to him, it was his space to just be him. Allowing someone into that space was a big step for Troy. However as they sat in the backseat of a cab with the meter ticking and the driver waiting expectantly for a direction; his dick literally straining against his jeans and longing for the privacy to obtain release, he wasn't particularly in the frame of mind to argue with her about the matter. He quickly gave his address along with directions – he was accustomed to cab drivers attempting to rip off customers by taking longer routes than required.

"Jones Street... that's pretty close to me," Gabriella mused. "Isn't it?"

"Yup," Troy confirmed.

Greenwich Village wasn't like the midtown area which was notorious for its traffic gridlocks; it was only a few short minutes drive. And yet those few minutes were precious, the pair not bearing to spend that time in discreet separation at opposite sides of the cab's backseat. She wasn't the making out in the backseat on the way back to a hot guy's apartment kind of girl, and yet that was precisely what she was becoming. And rather than feeling uncomfortable or questioning whether perhaps Troy might be judging her on the basis of her behaviour, or that the cab driver might be rolling his eyes at her – she found herself feeling liberated. Liberated by the sheer decision to follow her instincts, to listen to that desire that was burning in her core, and to _live_ as opposed to merely existing. Her inner desires told her that she not only wanted but that she _needed_ this man. She needed to feel his lips on every inch of her skin, to experience the unadulterated ecstasy that his whispers in the bar had promised. By now there was hardly an ounce of alcohol remaining in her system, at least not to the point of severely influencing her behaviour. She almost couldn't believe her own behaviour, a brief split second of contemplation of who this woman was and why she was behaving in such a manner. But she was beyond caring, too swept up in the moment, too swept up in him.

The vehicle pulling up where Troy had directed him to almost went unnoticed. Troy had to pry his lips away from Gabriella's. A crisp twenty was produced from his wallet and tossed it at the cab driver with a suave note to, "Keep the change."

They tumbled out of the cab and a good few minutes were spent in a passionate embrace on the footpath before Troy guided her over to the short series of steps which led to the door of his apartment building.

"Okay... we'll be upstairs a whole lot quicker if we can stop kissing for a few minutes," he said with a grin, leading her by the hand up the steps where he fumbled with his keys in the lock. He could feel her lips as they hovered by his neck, her warm breath tickling just behind his ear before she licked at his skin.

"But I don't wanna stop kissing you," she confessed in a pouty tone, her hands snaking around his waist, one hand reaching south and cupping over his erection.

The door swung open and her body wrapped up in his from behind, head resting against his shoulder, she followed him through and kicked the door shut behind her, not willing to remove her hands from their place, one pushing up his black t-shirt to ghost over his abdomen and the other following the snail trail down. Even wearing a belt his jeans were loose, making it relatively easy to slip her slight hand down, this time dipping beneath the waist band of his boxers, beneath the belt buckle which was situated an inch or so beneath the top of his boxers. Her fingers raked through the curly tendrils of hair before dipping her hand lower.

The first time that he felt the direct sensation of her soft hand stroking his hardened length, they were standing at the bottom of the stairwell. He froze in place the moment that she felt her delicate hand grip around his arousal. He'd been eternally grateful all night long that he'd chosen to wear boxers instead of boxer briefs that night, he'd been forced to readjust himself so that his length was resting awkwardly to the side in its aroused state. It had been years since he'd literally felt this aroused just at the slight touches and grinds he'd been experiencing with this exhilarating woman. Her hand gripped him at the end of his length, her thumb making a circle at the very tip, feeling the slick extract which was already seeping. He groaned and clutched to the banister as her hand stroked down and up, down and up. The last thing that Troy wanted was a premature arrival, not only could it potentially ruin the mood but it would be a dent to his ego. This woman was causing his body to react like a horny teenager who had no control of his reactions. It took every ounce of his strength to remove her hand. He spun around, pressing a solid, probing kiss to her lips before murmuring, "Not here. Come on."

He led her by the hand up the flights of stairs, this time she obliged and allowed the process to go on unimpaired. She followed him up the stairs, then down the corridor where he stopped in front of a door with a silver metal 3B labelling it. He swiftly unlocked the door and flicked on the light switch just inside before standing back to allow her to enter.

He lived in a modest, third floor studio apartment in a low rise apartment building. He struggled to make ends meet and really he knew that he should move to a cheaper neighbourhood, but he loved the Village; and if staying there meant that he had to survive on two minute noodles and grilled cheese some weeks, then so be it. She stepped into the room and curiously glanced around. To her immediate right was a doorway into what she assumed to be a bathroom. She took a few more steps forward, passing the bathroom. There was a tiny kitchen which backed onto the bathroom wall; a couch rested up against the right wall, a television on a cabinet across from it on the left wall, a stereo system also set up in the cabinet. A bed ran along the right wall, facing toward the balcony, with a high backed bed head which provided an illusion of privacy. Across from the bed on the left wall there was a desk with a computer.

"It's not much," Troy said awkwardly. "I uh... it's just me, you know, so I don't need much space."

"I like it," Gabriella declared sincerely.

It was practical, to the point, and the little that she knew of this man, it felt like it was _his_ apartment. There was a phenomenal CD collection littering the shelves of the cabinet. An acoustic guitar rested on the couch. An Xbox was on the floor in front of the television. There were no useless decorative items lying about, a few photo frames rested on the shelves of the cabinet. It wasn't perfectly neat, there were a few CDs lying on the floor in front of the cabinet, some music magazines by the couch, a single bowl, spoon and coffee mug in the kitchen sink, a pair of jeans and a shirt were on the floor in front of the wardrobe beside the desk. It was masculine, yet homely.

"Thank you," Troy said. There was a moment to awkward silence. He wasn't accustomed to having to accommodate someone else, to be hospitable. "Uh... can I get you anything? A drink? I have..." he opened his fridge, examining the relatively bare contents before concluding sheepishly, "Beer."

"Um, a glass of water?" she requested timidly.

"Sure thing, coming right up."

"And uh... may I use your bathroom?"

He hesitated a moment, before sweeping over to the bathroom door and glancing inside, wanting to check to make sure it was safe. It was relatively tidy, a pair of boxer briefs lay on the floor which he promptly picked up and tossed into the laundry hamper in the corner.

"Sure thing, go for it. My place is your place," he said, waving her in.

"Okay. I won't be long."

Troy busied himself, taking off his coat which he threw over the arm of the couch. He then poured a couple of glasses of water which he brought to place onto the small wooden coffee table in front of the couch. He picked up his acoustic guitar and placed it standing upright against the wall out of the way. He then went over to the stereo, promptly selecting a fairly safe choice – a John Mayer CD – into the slot. When she emerged from the bathroom, her hair looking a little tidier and lipgloss now coating her lips, he smiled in amusement at the female need to primp when all he was going to do was kiss the gloss away and cause her hair to be a tangled mess.

"I love John Mayer!" she gushed. She took off her coat and draped it over the opposite arm of the couch and sat down beside him.

He grinned, silently congratulating himself on his selection. She picked up her glass of water and took a sip as the soft sounds of _Come Back To Bed_ played over the speakers. Gabriella leaned down, rubbing at her calves a little, her legs feeling a little sore as a result of wearing her heels for a longer period of time than she would normally.

"Take them off if you want," Troy encouraged her. "I don't know how or why you girls put up with wearing those things. Here, I'll take off my shoes and we'll be even." She giggled as he slid off his Converse, kicking them slightly away. "You'll be taking them off eventually anyway."

She blushed as she undid the straps and placed her shoes neatly by the coffee table. "For all I knew maybe you have a thing for heels."

He shook his head. "Nah... those heels are dangerous. They could take an eye out!"

"I'm not sure when my feet would be anywhere near your head," she commented.

Troy smirked. His erection had settled a little but he felt it twitch a little as his brain contemplated his comment. "I can think of one primary situation to start with," he commented. "And I'm sure if we found a karma sutra manual, there would be plenty of others, providing you're fairly flexible. You seem flexible."

She contemplated his comment, her cheeks flushing as she envisaged herself engaged in that very position she suspected he was inferring; tasting his hardness between her lips, feeling his tongue against her heat. She glanced around the room, her eyes darting around as she felt a little uncomfortable. It was becoming glaringly obvious why this wasn't something that she typically took part in.

Luckily Troy wasn't anywhere near as nervous – rather he was becoming increasingly frustrated. The woman was incapable of hiding her reactions, the glaze in her eyes and the flush of her cheeks each time illicit thoughts crossed her mind. Just viewing that reaction was driving him crazy and all he wanted to do was drag her over to his bed and make it happen.

"Gabriella," Troy murmured, moving a little closer to her on the couch, his now bare foot rubbing up against hers. "Has anyone ever told you that you are an absolutely stunning, beautiful, gorgeous woman who deserves to be worshipped?"

"Uh..." she swallowed, a wave of arousal hitting her as his hands danced their way up her top, the black material shifting up and leaving her taut abdomen visible. "I... can't seem to recall right now."

He pulled the lace of the cups of her bra down, before retracting his hands and then pulling down her halter top, revealing the peaks of her supple breasts. His lips came down, suckling upon the swell of her right breast, his tongue teasingly circling around the dark pink bud and then taking it between his teeth, suckling, lightly grazing his teeth against it, flicking his tongue. His hands were busy at work untying her halter straps, pulling the front of her top down to provide easier access. She was mewling at the sensation of his stimulating actions. His lips shifted across to her left breast, repeating the same series of actions.

Troy grasped at the hem of her black halter top, breaking from his connection with her breast so that he could remove the top, discarding it onto the carpet. He reached around her back with one hand undoing the clasps of her strapless bra and allowing the lacy material to fall away, finally exposing her breasts entirely. He was more than pleased, he was blatantly aroused at the sight of her pert mounds, a perfect handful.

"Fuck you're hot," he murmured, his hands sliding up her slender frame and cupping her breasts.

Their lips fused together, his rough hands squeezing and caressing her breasts, pinching at her nipples. Gabriella's hands began to toy with the hem of his shirt, pulling away from their kiss so that she could remove the black cotton. She'd already caught sneak peeks of his abdomen and her hands had felt just how well defined he was. But finally seeing his bare chest provided cause to stop and stare for a good moment, biting her bottom lip and swallowing. He was unbelievably stunning. His muscles were perfectly proportional to his frame, strong and defined without being overbearing. She found herself experiencing an overwhelming desire to kiss and lick and touch and taste every inch of his body. Their kisses resumed once more and it was Gabriella who was the first to make the next blatant move, her hands finding their way to his belt buckle, undoing the brown leather strap and then unpopping his button and yanking down the fly of his jeans. The throb in his jeans was grateful for the ease of pressure, and he was quick to lift his hips from the couch to assist her in pulling the blue denim down. She left them hanging below his knees, she'd already moved onto the next task, her lips leaving his and it was now her turn to trail kisses down his neck, along his collarbone, trailing down to his firm, hard chest.

She focused on his pectorals, giving attention to each of his nipples, licking and teasing the dark buds in a similar fashion to the treatment he'd given her. He was stimulated by the action but what was more stimulating was the general direction that her kisses were heading. Her lips continued down south , her body shifting to kneel on the floor in front of him.

She gazed up at him, a momentary flashback to their dance in the club where her chocolate gaze had stared alluringly up at his darkened azure eyes. Her hands fell to the waistband of his boxers and again he lifted his hips, allowing her to pull down the material and finally allow his straining erection to be freed, standing at attention.

Gabriella had known women who actively enjoyed giving blowjobs. She was fairly neutral on the matter, she didn't love it but she wasn't opposed to it. But everything else about her encounter with Troy had gone against the grain of regular and so it shouldn't have been a surprise that he was revolutionising yet another area. Because as Gabriella's right hand enclosed around the tip of his length and began to slowly stroke his hard member, her desperate urge to taste his body was kicking in. She not only wanted but she _needed_ to feel him between her lips, to lick and kiss and suck.

Troy didn't want to beg but he was desperate, her intoxicatingly slow strokes were driving him utterly insane. It was crude, but it was true – he needed her to suck him. He stared at her pleadingly, and without taking her eyes off him, she finally dipped her head down, taking the very tip of his length between her lips, her right hand sitting at the base and pumping languorously. He groaned as her tongue twirled around the head, his length hardening further.

Troy had been with quite a few women over the years, he'd experienced the art of fellatio in a variety of forms. It never failed to fascinate him how a woman's personality was often indicative through her approach to instilling pleasure upon his penis. She was precise, on task, a little tentative. He'd encourage her vocally and he'd see the surprise in her eyes that he was enjoying her actions. She wasn't slobbering all over him like some, she wasn't even attempting to deep throat or use any sort of trickery. That wasn't necessary. He suspected that she could be doing anything to him and he'd find it arousing. There was something about her which gelled with him, an overall aura exuding from her. The little noises she was making, the way she looked up at him, the way that she was eager to please but firm to the rules of dignity she obviously had in place for herself.

A few minutes in and Troy was desperately close to tipping over the edge and a part of him wanted to, he wanted to so badly. He didn't recover as quickly as he did as a teenager but he was certainly capable of a second round. But he didn't want to arrive this way, not with her, he didn't want to prolong the main event any more than necessary.

"Gabriella... stop... have to... stop..." he wheezed. "Oh fuck..."

Her lips released his length with a satisfying popping sound, glancing up at him. She was about to speak when his hands gripped her beneath the arms, pulling her up as he simultaneously rose to his feet.

"Fuck you're so hot..." he murmured.

He pressed a long, lingering kiss to her lips. His fingers fumbled with her jeans, undoing her button and fly for the second time that evening and this time continuing to peel the denim down her perfectly shaped legs. He crouched as he pulled her jeans down, lips hovering over her pale blue lace panties which were evidently saturated with the evidence of her arousal. He began to kiss her inner thigh as he removed her jeans completely. She reached out, an arm steadying herself as she lifted each foot to assist him in the process. His hands ran up the back of her silky smooth legs, all the way up to rest upon her luscious backside. Still crouching, he continued to kiss and nibble at her inner right thigh. He moved across, his breath tickling over her damp, panty-covered mound before mimicking the motions and kissing her left thigh. She was trembling, quivering in anticipation of what she so desperately wanted. He rose, trailing licks and nibbles up her naked torso, suckling at each of her nipples, before he was standing upright and their lips had fused together once more. She could feel his erection pressing against her stomach.

Whilst in the midst of hungry kisses, Troy carefully guided her backwards toward his bed, not breaking their embrace. She only stopped when the back of her calves hit the bed, and she toppled backward onto the mattress. Troy followed, bending over to press a kiss to her lower abdomen just above the waistband of her panties, causing a whimper to escape her mouth. He snaked up her body, licked up her stomach, a circle tracing around her bellybutton before continuing north, away from teh direction she so wanted him to be heading. His knees came to rest on the mattress on either side of her, hovering above her as he attended to her breasts and then finally his mouth was on hers once more. They managed to reshuffle themselves on the bed so that she was lying fully across the king sized mattress, all the while maintaining the connection between their lips. His weight was half on her, half on the bed; the sensation of their naked upper halves and entwined legs was delicious with skin on skin contact maximised fully. His hard member was rubbing up against her wet lace panties, thrusting with vigour, the lace all that was separating them from the penultimate union.

His lips finally embarked upon their journey down south, his body shimming around to lie on the bed in the opposite direction. His thumbs hooked onto the top band of her panties, finally peeling them away, her legs lifting into the air to allow the scrap of lace to be discarded onto his carpet. He subconsciously ran his tongue across his lower lip, drinking in the sight of her most intimate area, a tuft of dark landing strip hair. Her hand languidly reached out to grasp onto his length, stroking carefully, aware of the need to maintain his arousal without tipping him over the edge. Gabriella suspected she wouldn't be capable of inflicting any sort of superior pleasure upon him, for as his hands gently pushed her thighs apart to reveal her fully, as his lips came down to press a soft kiss and then lick at her folds – she was already writhing, already losing the capability to have any sort of coherent thought process.

"Holy... oh shit... Troy..." she gasped. "I... need..."

He glanced up, blowing against her sensitive bundle of nerves and then trailing his tongue around the circumference. Her face was a mix of pleasure and pain – both as a result of anticipation.

"What do you need?" he murmured, using his finger to circle around her entrance at the exact same pace as his tongue then traced around her bud once more.

"Stop... teasing..." she moaned, her hips bucking involuntarily.

"Say please..." he requested, blatantly ignoring her request.

"Troyyyyy," she moaned.

"Mmm... close enough."

She let out a strangled cry as he simultaneously slipped his index and middle fingers within her depths and began to flick his tongue across her bud. She literally could not recall another time in her life when she'd been this aroused; hours of anticipation leading to this moment where finally, the man was touching her, tasting her, pleasing her; her body was writhing in ecstasy which not only met but surpassed the expectations she'd built up.

It wasn't long before she was on the brink of climax, her ragged, panted warning to Troy to stop was blatantly ignored. He continued, his fingers curling and stroking with a little more force, his tongue lapping with direct precision and contact upon her bud.

Very few times in her life had Gabriella experienced climax as a result of oral sex. It was a step on the journey for her ex boyfriends the majority of the time, something they would perform and then desist from in order to move onto the big finale. Never in her life had Gabriella cried out as loudly as she did, never had she been so overwhelmed by sensation and unadulterated ecstasy; hips writhing, body thrashing, a mess of garbed cries and moans and pants.

"Troy... oh shit... Troy... oh my God..."

He continued with his actions, his free hand attempting to keep her somewhat stilted, allowing him to continue thrusting his fingers within her pulsating cavern, teasing her engorged bud. She began to come down a little from her climax, but his continued teasing taking her to a plateau rather than a decline. She began to stroke at his length with a little more force, having pretty much desisted from the action throughout the throes of her peak. She used her thumb to spread the pre-ejaculate, providing some lubricant which caused him to harden further. Just as she began to tremble once more, her arousal having built up even quicker than the previous time, he thwarted his teasing tongue and retracted his fingers. She whimpered at the loss of his touch but as his body flipped around, it became evident that the few seconds of separation were to be worthwhile.

He reached down to the built in drawer beneath his bed; a storage solution perfect for the bachelor in a tight space, fingers retrieving a condom from his stash which typically would make his way from the drawer to his wallet. He tore open the packaging with his teeth and made quick work of sheathing his erection with the rubber. He pushed her thighs apart, legs splaying wide across the bed, and knelt in front of her.

A prolonged cry of pleasure mixed with a drawn out grunt filled the studio apartment as his length slid into her slippery cavern. She was warm, wet, tight and Troy was actively controlling the teenage boy within who was just about ready to shoot his load prematurely. Gabriella had been brought to the point of maximum arousal, her orgasm had left her craving more and craving the feel of being filled. He thrust into her slowly at first, his thumb languorously circling her clit. Positions shifted as he leaned forward, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him down to be sheathed completely within her depths. Lips met in lazy, languid kisses; hips thrust in a dance which was new and fresh and yet for some reason, felt oddly right, as though this was where each of them belonged – together, united, as one.

"Troy... oh my God... I'm gonna... so close... fuck!" Gabriella swore among ragged pants and mewls. "Need you... harder..."

All he could do was comply, shifting his weight slightly back to allow himself the room to thrust with more force, more direction, more purposeful penetration.

"Right there... oh my God... Troyyy," she moaned, one hand clutching at his shoulder and the other at the bedspread beneath her.

The room was electric as her orgasm arrived, even more powerful than the one before. He continued to thrust, the waves of pleasure continuing to roll and moments later his own climax arrived, her moans and pants and mewls being met by his groans and grunts and expletives.

She felt a pang of want, of longing, once he retracted himself from within her depths. She wasn't sure where he discarded the condom to but she didn't particularly care. She was struggling to regulate her breathing, struggling to regain some sort of ability to speak or move or think.

They were still for a long time, hands slowly caressing at each other's bodies, lips meeting in the occasional kiss.

"Holy shit... that was... oh my..." Gabriella couldn't finish her sentence, her eyes wide, overcome with sensation and desire and adoration for this Adonis of a man who had brought her pleasure she hadn't realised existed.

"And you know what, Gabriella?" Troy murmured by her ear, his breath tickling against her cheek.

"Mmm?"

"That was only round one."

Her eyes widened as he reached out for her hand, bringing it over to touch his length. He wasn't completely hard but he wasn't completely flaccid either. He flipped her over onto her back, a squeal emitting from her lips before his weight came to rest securely on top of her. Round two had officially begun.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Hours later and Gabriella had lost count of her orgasms. She'd lost awareness of everything that wasn't her and Troy. The room reeked of sex, in a good way. She didn't recall the light switches being turned off, she didn't recall at what point they'd gotten underneath his comforter. All she knew was that she was snuggled within the arms of the most incredible man she'd ever encountered and that her body was feeling completely and utterly satiated.

"Thank you," she murmured, her lips pressing to his lazily.

"Thank _you,_" he returned, his fingers raking through her hair.

He watched as he wriggled slightly making herself comfortable upon his pillow, pulling the comforter to encase her a little tighter.

One of the advantages to always going to the woman's place was that Troy was able to make his escape with ease. To cuddle and nap for a couple of hours and then slink off into the night, leaving a note of gratitude about not wanting to wake her up but he has an early appointment, and failing to leave a phone number. The instincts he'd built up over the years told him to get rid of her; this was his apartment and he needed her to leave immediately. However as this naked Goddess nestled into his form, her satiated body was still and he could hear the steady rhythm of her contented breathing as she was on her way to the land of peace and dreams. Not only was he feeling incapable of being so cruel as to kick her out – but he didn't really want to. He liked the way her slender body fit perfectly within his arms; he liked the feel of her warm, smooth skin pressed up against him.

And so instead of detaching himself and shaking her awake, he found himself settling down, and curling his arm protectively around her middle.

He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. "Good night beautiful," he murmured quietly.

Her reply was faint, but audible. "Night Troy."

**~.~**

_**S **__is for the simple need_

_**E **__is for the ecstasy_

_**X **__is just to mark the spot coz that's the one you really want_

_**S.E.X. by Nickelback**_

**

* * *

**


	4. Four

**THE SIMPLE NEED**

**AN – **Thank you so much to everyone for all of the love all the support for this story, it makes me giddy with excitement. Here's chapter four of... I don't know how many at the moment. Let's just take the journey together :)

I've googled/YT'd all the guitar stuff, I don't play guitar, I hope it's accurate.

**~ *~**

**THE SIMPLE NEED**

**Four**

_If you ask the question_

_Then it's always yes_

**Nickelback 'The Simple Need'**

**~ * ~**

Gabriella awoke to a feeling of utter satiation. There was a dull ache in every muscle of every limb of her petite body. It was coupled with a feeling of fulfilment; satiation somewhere deep inside; contentment she couldn't ever remember feeling before. At first it was a little hazy, not understanding why she felt this way, but a moment later memories came flooding back to her and a small smile spread across her lips. She eased herself to be lying on her back and then her right hand reached beside her, as though wanting confirmation of the man who had allowed her to experience the most liberating, ecstasy filled night of her life.

Her hand came to rest upon the mattress; the warm, hard body she'd envisaged not present. For a split second, she questioned whether she'd imagined the whole thing, if she'd had some intense, mind blowing, _real_ dream. But then she registered that she was in fact naked, and as her eyes fluttered open and she was met with the view of a foreign comforter set and thick black out curtains which were open just slightly on the far right, allowing a sliver of light into the studio apartment.

"Troy?" Gabriella called out hesitantly, her voice a bit scratchy.

There came no immediate response, the room was silent with no sounds from the living area or kitchen, she couldn't hear running water or the ventilation fan from the bathroom. Nonetheless she sat upright, clutching the crisp navy sheet to her naked torso, cleared her throat and called out once more.

"Troy?"

Again, there was no response.

Gabriella glanced around, not one item of her clothing in plain sight, and pursed her lips. Regardless of what may have taken place the evening before, she didn't feel particularly comfortable traipsing around in this man's apartment naked. And so she pushed the comforter back and gathered the top sheet to wrap around her body. The bed would need to be stripped anyway – even with protection, sex was messy. Her feet hit the carpet and she padded through the studio apartment, confirming what she already knew – that he wasn't there. She was feeling bleary eyed, a digital clock on the kitchen bench informing her it was 11am. She wasn't sure what time they'd finally succumbed to sleep – round one had been followed by round two, a brief nap, and then round two point five and three. She used his bathroom and then helped herself to a glass of water from the jug in the fridge, her dry scratchy throat grateful for the cool liquid.

It was only when she turned around and looked at the couch – a couch which had been home to the initial stages of their foreplay – that she registered the meaning of his lack of presence.

He'd gathered her articles of clothing, placed them in a neat pile on the couch with her shoes and purse on the floor, and also placed a fresh towel beside them.

It was his silent way of saying, 'thanks, and now you can leave.' He was avoiding the morning after conversation altogether. He didn't want to have to let her down, to make an excuse when she attempted to leave her phone number with him. And as Gabriella came to realise this, she couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment inside. It was her own fault, her own female need to complicate sex by attaching emotion. He could not have made his intentions – or lack of intentions, perhaps – more clear the night before. She was the one who had agreed to his terms.

But nonetheless, here she was, standing alone in his apartment, feeling completely crushed. Feeling cheap, feeling used. She wasn't asking him for forever. But an acknowledgement the morning would have been nice.

She picked up her pile of clothing and the towel and was about to comply with his wishes, when her eye met with his acoustic guitar which was propped up against the wall. She set down her clothing and instead picked up the guitar and the pick which lay on the carpet beside it, and sat down on the couch, sitting right at the edge with the guitar resting on her thighs.

She'd only ever learned to play one song on the guitar. It had been in her freshman year of college when she'd taken a music class 'for fun' and subsequently been mortified upon learning she'd have to learn a song to play and sing in front of her entire class. After sweating and being close to vomiting and fainting, it was the thought of receiving a failing grade which had pushed her to deal with her fear and be pushed out in front of her peers.

Throughout her entire undergraduate and undergraduate career, that class back in freshman year remained firmly ingrained in her memories as being as one of her favourites; and it only took a couple of minutes of strumming with Troy's guitar for the notes to come back to her.

_It's like a turning point a fork stuck in the road_

_Time grabs you by the wrist directs you where to go_

She was too engrossed in the song to hear the key turning in the door, but she did hear the sound of him entering and immediately halted her playing.

"I'm so sorry!" she said, quickly placing the guitar onto the ground. "I'm really sorry. I uh... I'll just be out of your way now. Sorry to be bothersome."

Troy was a little bewildered. He kicked the door shut behind him and asked, "What are you talking about?"

She glanced down, seeing that he was carrying a plastic bag and a coffee cup holder with four coffees. "Well obviously you went out to get breakfast for yourself and asked me to get out in the meantime and instead I'm making myself at home playing your guitar instead of taking a shower and leaving as intended," she spoke quickly, as though afraid he was going to interject and kick her out and she wanted to fit in as much of her explanation as possible. "I just saw your guitar and I haven't played in years and I just really felt compelled to play and I know that I shouldn't have and I'm really..."

"Gabriella!" Troy exclaimed, rolling his eyes. He set the coffee holder and plastic bag onto the bench and stepped closer to her. She clutched the sheet a little tighter to her small frame. "I don't care, really. If you'd been on my computer which has like, a thousand dollars worth of software on it, then yeah, I might've been a bit annoyed."

"Oh. Well... I still should leave," she said stiffly.

"Why? Do you have to be somewhere? What is this about me asking you to leave?"

She gestured to her pile of clothing and the towel. "You left. And put these things out. What was I supposed to think?"

He blinked, and scratched the back of his head. "Um... well... I didn't meant it that way. I actually tried to wake you up before I went out, but you were dead to the world and I kinda figured you weren't going to wake up any time soon. I went out to grab breakfast since I don't have anything here, like, at all. You really think I drink four coffees all by myself?"

She shrugged. "Um, no, but that doesn't indicate that you got it for me, it indicates that you were maybe having company over or something."

"I didn't know what you would want," he confessed. "So I got a few choices. There's tea and a caramel latte and a cappuccino. And I stopped to grab some bagels but then didn't know if you even like bagels – since you haven't been in New York that long you might not have transformed to our way of eating – so I also got some muffins."

Gabriella blinked. "You went out to get me breakfast?"

"Yes..."

"Oh."

"If I was going to try to get rid of you quickly it would have been last night," Troy said frankly. "Now, any of these drinks up your alley or do I need to go and get something else?"

"The caramel latte sounds awesome," Gabriella requested shyly, feeling guilty for having overreacted – and feeling a little sigh of relief inside that her assumptions had been wrong. "And for the record, I love both bagels and muffins, although I try to limit their consumption. Carbohydrates and all." She glanced down at the sheet that was wrapped around her and picked up the pile of clothing again. "Um... I might just get dressed."

Troy shook his head. "Don't bother. Here..." he led her by the hand over to his bed and pulled open one of the lower drawers, retrieving a light blue cotton tee. "Just put this on for now. The coffee will get cold."

She glanced at it a little warily. "Just this?"

"It'll come down to your mid thigh, and like I haven't seen you in less," he pointed out with a smirk. "Would it make you feel better if I took my jeans off?" Without waiting for her response, he promptly unbuckled his belt and pushed his grey jeans down his hips, revealing black and white plaid cotton boxers. "Now put the shirt on and come have breakfast."

She was hesitant but decided that since the last day had been filled with spontaneity, why break the trend now, and she merely pulled on her panties from the night before, dressed herself in his t-shirt, left her clothing on the edge of his bed and then returned to the living area where he was now sitting on the couch, two plates each with a muffin and a bagel with cream cheese on the coffee table sitting beside the Starbucks paper cups.

He gestured toward a pile of raw sugar sachets he'd obtained. "Help yourself."

"Think you took enough?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Well they'll do me for my whole week of my crappy cheap black coffee," he said.

"So what are you drinking today?" she asked, gesturing toward his coffee cup, the lid obscuring the contents from her vision.

Troy hesitated. "If I tell you, will you laugh?"

"No laughing. Scouts honour," she said, lifting her fingers.

"It's a white chocolate mocha with a shot of vanilla."

"Why would I laugh at that?"

"Because it sounds girly as fuck. But I force myself to drink cheap black coffee every day and so when I go to Starbucks, I lash out and get something sweet and nice."

She shrugged. "There's hardly any point in going to Starbucks if you're just going to order something plain and simple." She took a sip from her coffee. She didn't like her coffee steaming hot and so it had cooled down to the perfect temperature. "I don't think I've eaten a breakfast this good since I moved here. It's perfect after drinking the night before."

"Are you feeling hung over at all? I have some Advil if you do," Troy offered.

She shook her head. "Nah, I'm fine, a bit tired is all. I uh... we were awake long enough that the alcohol wore off."

"Yeah, I don't even know what time we crashed," Troy said with a slight smirk. "It was pretty late."

"I wasn't exactly clock watching myself," Gabriella confessed, avoiding direct eye contact.

"So tell me, how come you never mentioned that you play guitar and that you have a gorgeous voice?" Troy asked, eyebrows raising.

"I don't know about a gorgeous voice," she said, blushing. "And I don't play guitar. I just know that one song, I took a music class in college as an elective."

"Why that song? I mean... you sounded amazing but it's not really within your range."

"We were given some ideas to pick from and my teacher recommended it because with that song the chords are pretty easy but the picking is harder. And because I have small hands I find some chords hard to reach but I can get in and do intricate picking fairly easily. For that assessment it mattered more about the instrument than about our vocal ability."

"I bet you got an A."

Gabriella blushed. "Maybe."

"Your voice really is amazing," Troy said genuinely. "Like... seriously. I know some guys who do some like, punk rock stuff and are looking for a back up female vocalist for some of their like, Paramore sort of stuff."

"Oh God, absolutely not. I sing in the shower and if I'm really drunk, I might play SingStar."

"And evidently in my apartment when I leave you alone," he pointed out with a smirk.

"I am sorry about that," she apologised once again.

"Sorry? Oh yes, watching a sexy girl wearing my top sheet singing and strumming my guitar was a painful experience," Troy said with a teasing grin. "However will I recover?"

She blushed, her head ducking – a sight which Troy found utterly endearing. "I imagine I looked like a fright, with my hair all crazy and make up smudged." She paused, contemplating the point, glancing down at the blue shirt which adorned her torso and upper thighs. "Not much different to right now, really."

"I happen to think that my shirt has never looked better, personally," Troy said, not even attempting to screen that he was giving her a good look over.

Not sure what she could say in response, she chose that moment to engulf the remaining large bite of muffin into her mouth, requiring her to be silent as she chewed for a while. Troy didn't attempt to fill the silence, he merely lifted his coffee to his lips to take a large gulp from the almost empty container.

"Do you like your muffin?" Troy asked as she finished swallowing.

She nodded. "It's lovely. Thank you, by the way, for breakfast. You really didn't have to."

He shrugged. "No worries," he said nonchalantly. "It would've been a bit rude to have you wake up and have nothing to offer you."

As he'd been standing at the Starbucks counter on 7th Avenue at Sheridan Square, he'd questioned his own motives. He'd been wary of letting her come back to his place, he'd contemplated calling her a cab after they'd finished up with round three, when he'd awoken and his stomach was growling he'd thought about waking her up then. Instead, he'd been buying her breakfast. For a brief moment of time, it occurred to him that the logic was simple – he wanted her to stay. He wanted a reason to keep her around a little longer. However he'd only allowed himself to entertain that thought briefly because on the whole it was a thought that frightened him. She'd served her purpose, satisfied the simple need he'd had for her – she no longer had a function to him. And so he'd wrapped it up in a good faith gesture, since she was becoming friendly with some of his friends, and left it at that, his brain not wanting to contemplate it further.

"You chose well. What are you going to do with the other drinks, by the way?" she asked, eyebrows raising.

"I'll microwave them later." She wrinkled her nose, obviously finding that a little distasteful, so he pointed out, "They'll be better than what I normally live on."

"How long have you lived here?" she asked, glancing around.

"About a year. I just signed for another six months. I lost my mind and asked my mom – who is an accountant – to help me out with my budgets and finances and stuff. And she seems to agree that I've lost my mind but not because I asked her for help, but because I shouldn't be living in Manhattan let alone in the Village."

Gabriella shrugged. "It's your life. For some people lifestyle is about being able to afford to have Starbucks every day. For other people they'd rather locate themselves somewhere amazing and allow their lifestyle to build around that."

"Exactly! Could you call my mom and tell her that?" Troy exclaimed.

Her eyebrows raised and she joked, "Isn't it a bit early to be talking with your mother?"

If Troy Bolton was the blushing type, his cheeks would have flushed. Instead, he shifted in his seat a little uncomfortably, realising the insinuation of the topic.

"Troy I'm kidding, relax," Gabriella said softly, reaching over to rub his arm gently. She knew the moment she'd cracked the joke that it wasn't exactly the right thing to say in the interest of maintaining the nice, non-awkward morning after vibe they'd managed to find.

He reached over to grab both of their empty plates that had been placed onto the coffee table and then stood to take them over into the small kitchenette. "Maybe I'll have to get a part time gig at Starbucks, I wonder if they let their employees have free food?"

"For some reason I doubt it. Not many chain, big company type of food outlets do. You might get a discount though," Gabriella said optimistically. "Do you really want another job?"

Troy shrugged. "Not really, I'd rather if the band could do more gigs. But the other guys aren't as serious about it, they don't have as much time to dedicate to practice and stuff."

"Where is your electric guitar, by the way?" Gabriella asked, suddenly realising that when they'd left the night before, he hadn't brought his equipment with him.

"Andy lives in Brooklyn and he has a van, we rehearse out at his place on Sunday afternoons," he explained. "So he picks our stuff up on Fridays before the gig, we pack it up after the show, and then go out there for rehearsal on Sunday afternoon and I bring my guitar back with me. I have my own amps but I just keep them in his garage, it's not like I can play with them here, I'd probably get evicted."

She smiled. "Possibly, although I can't say I'd have any problems with hearing a good musician through my wall, as long as it wasn't at four in the morning. All I hear from my neighbours is arguing."

He rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Sounds like my neighbours. Since I put up with their shit you'd think they could handle a guy playing his electric guitar once in a while." He shrugged. "Doesn't matter, I prefer my acoustic when I'm just here at home. I only really play electric with the band."

"You're lucky Andy lives in Brooklyn then, it would be hard to find any apartment building which would be tolerant of rock band rehearsals."

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of knocking at the door. Gabriella's eyes widened as she glanced down at her barely clad body. Troy's eyes widened, remembering that he'd called his landlord the day before asking him to come look at the oven. Anyone else would have had to buzz to come up.

"Shit..." Troy mumbled. He grabbed Gabriella's clothes and the towel. "Go shower," he urged. "Use whatever you want. It's just my landlord coming to check out my oven, it's been fucking up. He won't be here long, he'll look at it and we'll arrange for the super to come fix it."

She immediately obeyed his direction, grabbing her things and scurrying toward the bathroom.

"Just a minute," Troy called out to the door and quickly went to his bed to retrieve the jeans he'd removed. He pulled them on as he stumbled back toward the door, doing up the fly and button a moment before unlatching the chain and pulling open the door.

"Hey Marty," Troy greeted the forty something year old with the receding blonde hair line and kind green eyes.

"Hey Troy," Marty returned, his eyebrows raising as he glanced toward the bathroom where he could hear the water running. "Bad time?"

"Just a friend, that's all," Troy said shortly.

"Right," Marty smirked, pretending to not notice the pumps and coat he spotted at the end of the couch. "Show us this oven."

. . .

Gabriella took her time in the bathroom. She wasn't sure if Troy had been protecting her honour or if he was more concerned of his landlord's perception of him if she'd been spotted. Nonetheless, she wanted to avoid any sort of potential discomfort and so was grateful for his quick thinking. When she'd stepped out of the shower she couldn't hear any voices beyond the door but there had been no harm in playing on the safe side. She'd had the sense to grab her purse as she'd been pushed out of sight, so she pulled her comb through her curls, used a tiny amount of the small tube of hand moisturiser she carried to freshen up her face, and applied lip gloss. She pulled on her jeans, but it was when she went to pull on her halter top that she encountered a slight problem – without even having realised, somehow in the process of its removal the evening before one of the straps had broken.

"Shit," she swore. She attempted to do some magic with a bobby pin that was in her purse but it wasn't happening. She wrapped the damp towel around her torso, preparing herself to go out and inform Troy of her predicament – but then her attention was drawn diverted, her worries floating away; with the sound of a guitar beginning to strum just beyond the bathroom door.

_We got the afternoon, you got this room for two_

_One thing I'd love to do, discover me discovering you..._

She was mesmerised. There was simply no other word. She'd heard him play and sing as a back up the night before and heard the potential in his voice. He'd sang _those_ lyrics in her ear, _those_ lyrics which by their very nature had rendered her giddy and desperate for his touch.

And yet standing in his bathroom as he was just on the other side of the door, guitar in hand, singing with such purity and sweetness – it was more powerful than all of the band's set from the night before. The man was brilliant. He couldn't just sing, but he could _sing. _He sang with power and conviction and passion and sex appeal all rolled into one package. Not even thinking about her actions, she pulled the bathroom door open, needing to see him, needing to confirm with her very own eyes that this was in fact Troy.

And there he was, perched on the edge of the couch, eyes closed, dextrous fingers delicately plucking and strumming at the notes; voice of an angel – but a sexy angel, an Adonis like angel.

_Coz if you want love, we'll make it_

_Swim in a deep sea of blankets_

_Take all your big plans and break 'em_

_This is bound to be a while_

_Your body is a..._

It was as though he'd forgotten that she was even in the apartment; the moment that he registered her presence in the bathroom door frame staring at him in awe, he stopped playing.

"Oh you uh... you don't have to stop," Gabriella stammered, stepping forward, eyes widening, feeling rude for interrupting him. "You're... shit... you're amazing." There was nothing but pure admiration in her tone.

He didn't respond to her compliment with anything but a tight smile. He'd been aware that she was there, when he'd picked up his guitar and started strumming he hadn't even intended upon being heard. Truthfully he didn't mind her hearing him play or sing – it wasn't anything she hadn't seen already – but there was something in the way that she was staring at him that felt a little disconcerting. She wasn't just looking at him; it was as though she was looking _into_ him. Seeing more than what he wanted her to see, more than what he allowed anyone to see.

"Uh... what's with my towel? Is this the latest look?" he asked, gesturing toward the towel that was wrapped around her.

"Oh! Um... It seems that somehow my halter top got damaged last night." She held it up and gestured toward the missing left tie and where it had ripped out of the top.

He furrowed his brows. "Shit. I... thought I was pretty careful at that point. Unless I'm remembering things wrong. And I didn't notice anything wrong with it this morning."

She shrugged. "It's okay. But do you have a safety pin or something? Then I could pin this part here to my bra or something."

"Um... just wear my blue shirt," Troy said.

"Are you sure?" Gabriella asked.

"Yeah, it's fine," he said dismissively. "You can like, tie it up around your belly button and make it into a fashion statement. It'll be better than that towel, I'm sure."

Gabriella smiled and ducked back into the bathroom, only taking a minute to pull the blue t-shirt over her head, tie it just below her belly button as Troy had suggested – revealing a subtle strip of her tanned, taut abdomen – and rolling up the sleeves slightly.

"See, I said it looks better on you," Troy said with a grin.

She blushed and held up her towel. "Where do you want this?"

"There's a hamper in there, that's fine."

She promptly tossed the towel into the hamper and then came out to stand in front of him. She'd shoved the tattered halter into her purse and was now standing awkwardly before him. She knew that she should make something up – somewhere she had to be, a reason she had to leave – and excuse herself.

But it was simple – she didn't want to leave.

She wanted to stay.

She wanted to be in his presence.

Troy was looking up at her, seeing the hesitation. The silence had lasted a little bit too long to be classed as comfortable silence, it had instead rolled over into being slightly awkward. A part of him was racking his brain trying to think of an excuse to kick her out – this wasn't something he did. He was used to escaping, not to having to politely and yet firmly tell someone to leave.

But he didn't want her to leave.

He wanted her to stay.

He wanted to be in her presence.

And so instead of making an excuse to get rid of her, the complete opposite popped out of his mouth.

"Do you want to learn a new song?" he blurted out.

Her brows furrowed a little in confusion. "Huh?"

"On the guitar," he clarified. "Since you only know one song. Do you want me to teach you another?"

"Oh! Um... oh I don't know," she said, blushing. "I'm really not very good, it took me so much time to learn that Greenday song."

"This song is even easier. There are two chords. It's really just about a strumming pattern."

She swallowed. There was something slightly pleading in his tone. He wasn't asking her out of politeness – it was a genuine offer.

"Um... I guess there's no harm in trying," she said a little hesitantly.

Troy patted the lounge next to him, and Gabriella set down her purse and moved over to sit to his right, the guitar promptly being handed across so she could rest it upon her thigh.

"This song is like, the ultimate beginner song. It's really old and there's a chance you don't know it. It's by a band called America and it's called The Horse With No Name."

"I know it," Gabriella said immediately, smiling slightly. "My dad used to love that song."

He grinned. "Awesome. So you know it. This song has two chords. One is E minor, and the other is... okay for such a simple chord is has a complicated name so for today's purposes let us call us D sixty nine."

Gabriella let out a small giggle and rolled her eyes. "How appropriate that a chord has such a name."

"Well, it's like D add six add nine... I like my name better."

"I'm sure you do."

"So for E minor, we're working with the second fret, second and third string."

Troy's hand wrapped around hers, his fingers ever so lightly guiding hers to the appropriate locations. She shivered lightly, an involuntary reaction to his touch. He smirked slightly, not oblivious to the way that he affected her, but didn't say anything.

"And then the second chord..."

"The sixty nine?"

"That's the one. All we do is move the top finger up, and the bottom finger down."

He had yet to remove his hand from its place over hers, and so he demonstrated, moving her index and middle fingers apart.

"Excellent," he praised.

"So that's it? Those are the two chords?"

Troy nodded. "Yup. And then in the basic form – there's nothing crazy with picking or anything. It's just full strums of every string. You can jazz it up once you've learnt it a bit more but it's just about remembering a stroke pattern – and you strike me as being pretty intelligent so I'm guessing you'll handle recalling the order of things here."

"Okay. Wait hang on... use a pick..." He reached over onto the coffee table where she'd left the pick after she'd been playing with the guitar earlier.

"You weren't using a pick," she pointed out.

"Yeah but my hands are already fucked up from the guitar. And I prefer just my hands for acoustic anyway. So what you're doing is playing one pattern on the E minor, and one pattern on the D sixty nine. So get your pick ready at the top just here..." His hand enclosed over the back of her palm and he then firmly, but gently, demonstrated the stroke pattern. "On the E minor... that's perfect... we have Down, down, down, up-down-up. And on the D sixty nine we have down-up down-up, up, down-up."

The lesson continued, Troy going over the strumming pattern, helping her with the efficiency of her change between the chords, and then finally joining in by adding the vocal.

_On the first part of the journey_

_I was looking at all the life_

Gabriella's face was bright with elation as she finally put together the tune of the vocal and the tune of the chords he'd been teaching her, hearing Troy sing along to her playing.

_I've been through the desert on a horse with no name_

_It felt good to be out of the rain_

He went to stop after the first chorus but she encouraged him to keep singing. It wasn't exactly the most heartfelt of songs for her personally, other than a recollection from her younger years of her dad singing along in the car in his warbled, off-pitch voice. And nonetheless she was enthralled. With her slightly hesitant strumming; and his confident, smooth and at times playful voice – they had united, together, and were making this song come to life.

The moment they finished, Gabriella turned to smile proudly at Troy – having been staring intently at her fingers the entire time.

"We did it!" she said excitedly. "I know another song now!"

Troy laughed. "That you do."

"That's so cool! Thank you!"

"Not a problem."

"You have such an amazing voice," she found herself blurting out, and immediately blushed at her candour. "I know I must sound like such a fangirl but seriously... you truly have an incredible voice."

Troy smiled. It was something he'd heard many times before but nonetheless a compliment was a compliment and he was appreciative. "Thank you," he said simply.

She wordlessly handed the guitar back over to him, which he promptly nestled on his thigh. Completely naturally, his fingers began to casually pluck at the strings, no particular tune in mind.

"Is that something you've written?" Gabriella asked, her legs tucking up beneath her on the couch.

Troy shrugged. "Nothing official... I fool around with chords and melodies. But I don't touch lyrics."

She was fiddling with the guitar pick, and glanced over to look at him. His eyes were downcast, staring intently at where his left hand was forming chords to strum lightly.

"Why not?" she asked carefully.

"Lyrics are personal," he said shortly, obviously not willing to elaborate without a bit of prodding.

"Too personal for you?"

He shrugged, looking a bit aloof. "I guess."

"I write short stories," Gabriella mused, dragging the pick against her denim clad thigh. "It can be... an emotional outlet. When things happen in life that affect me – like when my uncle died, or when I was upset about breaking up with a boyfriend – I put it down into words and it is like a therapeutic experience or something."

"If I wanted therapy I'd see a shrink," Troy said bluntly, his thumb dragging down the strings a little harder than intended, a harsh sound emitting from the instrument.

Gabriella bit her lip. She was fascinated – the intellectual, probing side of her which had studied psych for one of her minors couldn't help but cock her head and feel the need to search deeper. She shoved the pick into her pocket and shifted on the couch to face him, her hands clasping together.

"Isn't music supposed to be about emotion though?" she asked.

"Yes. But... not my own stuff. That's... that's different."

"But there's songs you love, lyrics that you identify with?"

He hesitated before answering quietly, "Of course."

Reaching across, Gabriella's hand brushed over his strumming hand, pausing it momentarily.

"Play me something real."

"Something real?" he repeated, a little wary.

"Something that tells me about you. Something that you _feel_."

Her tone was light, inquisitive, and yet at the same time, almost pleading. There was a genuine curiosity and yearning to her tone which Troy almost felt compelled to appease.

Almost.

"Something I _feel_,_" _he repeated with a small smirk.

Immediately Gabriella knew that he wasn't going to take her seriously and she rolled her eyes as he launched right into the every end of the chorus of a song that she knew very well.

_You're so much cuter when you never pull it out_

_Coz you look so much cuter with something in your mouth_

He was smirking as he sang, staring her in the eyes. How he could sing such blatantly crude lyrics and nonetheless succeed in having a stimulating effect upon her was slightly boggling. Gabriella managed to shake herself free of his mesmerising stare and slapped him on the upper arm lightly.

"No!" she admonished.

"Oh okay. What about this..."

_You're beside me on the seat, got your head between my knees..._

"Troy!" Gabriella exclaimed. "I said something _real_ not something about _blow jobs_!"

"Blow jobs are real," he said seriously. "And the songs aren't about 'blow jobs' they're about sex and sex is definitely real. And you also told me to sing something that I feel and you know what? Sex is all about feeling."

"Not for you," Gabriella said quietly. "You don't let yourself feel when you have sex. At least that's what you have led me to believe."

He set the guitar down leaning up against the side of the couch, before answering, "Different kind of feeling."

"No, not really."

Troy's body turned to face hers. His face was expressive, his tone a little accusatory.

"You think that I don't feel? Were you there with me last night? Or were you somewhere else altogether? Because believe me, there was _feeling_."

"Feeling being emotion?" Gabriella asked, knowing very well that there had been no emotion involved.

"Feeling being..." Troy paused, taking a moment to contemplate the right words. His voice softened. "Sensation." His fingertips gently brushed down the length of her slender arm. "Chemistry. Heat. Attraction."

All thought of psychological deconstruction washed away. Gabriella's breath hitched, her chocolate gaze intent upon his bright blue eyes, a shiver running down her spine as his hand lingered on her arm. His tone was low, seductive. It may have been a diversionary tactic but in that moment in time, she didn't particularly care. All that was of concern were the feelings stirring within, the sensation he evoked, the attraction she felt – all that she cared about was the simple _need_ she felt for him.

"Troy?" she murmured softly, a longing urge to her voice.

Her right hand reached over and slightly grazed the side of his face. He returned her gaze, heavy with innuendo just through one intense look. There was no doubting what she was thinking, she was begging without saying the words, silently communicating her desire.

Troy was rarely a guy for seconds. A one night stand was precisely that – a _one night_ stand. And yet so many of his usual rules of women and dating had been violated in the last twenty four hours that he figured to hell with it. When it came to this woman, he was insatiable.

His hand closed over hers, guiding it away from his face, fingers entwining. "Yes," he murmured. "It's always yes."

And without another word being spoken, his lips softly grazed against hers. The first kiss for the day after was gentle and soft; but as they lingered together, it inevitably heated up. They skipped a whole stage of development, instead they were thrown into a desperate, probing, longing kiss. Hands clawed, bodies moulded together. He guided her to be lying back on the couch; he hovered over her, kisses frantic, bodies writhing together. Pieces of clothing were yanked away, denim jeans being shimmied off, t-shirts removed, as they urgently yearned skin on skin contact.

She wasn't even sure how it happened – one moment she was kissing and groping his backside, and the next he'd somehow rolled off the couch, falling to the floor and pulling her along with him.

"Fuck!" she swore. "Are you okay? I'm so..."

Her apology was swallowed with his kiss. "I'm fine," he assured her in between frenzied kisses.

She'd landed awkwardly but her fall was cushioned by Troy's body. The fall and worries that she'd squished him evaporated as his caressing hands and warm lips stimulated every inch of her being. She manoeuvred herself into a better position, digits raking through his chestnut strands, body flush to his, her arousal grinding against his erection. Her lacy strapless bra was unhooked with dextrous ease and flung aside.

"The bed..." she gasped.

"Too far," he grunted. "Right here is perfect."

She was too far gone to argue. "Okay."

. . .

The small Manhattan studio apartment was silent but for the noise of a car alarm going off outside, some loud music playing in the apartment above, and the sound of two sets of heavy, ragged, post orgasmic breathing. Gabriella had collapsed on top of Troy, her head nestling into the crook of his neck. She'd contemplated rolling away but his arms were holding her down – not too tightly, but it was enough to deter her from moving.

"Wow," Gabriella breathed.

"Uh huh." Troy was in complete agreement.

His eyes were closed, his laboured breathing slowly regaining a semblance of normalcy. The petite woman who was moulded so perfectly to his body has succeeded in bringing him to heights of pleasure and ecstasy beyond imagine. He couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, what was different about the way they kissed and touched, why he felt a bodily connection to her that he'd never comprehended could exist.

"I've never done it on the floor before," she said softly.

His eyes remained closed but he smirked. His hand gently rubbed at the small of her back.

"The bed was too far," he said plainly. "That was so fucking convenient that you carry a condom with you in your purse that was within reach. I don't think I could've walked all the way to get one."

She giggled lightly at the concept. Troy's bed was merely paces away, the condoms right beneath the bed, and yet they'd done it on the floor in front of the couch. Her coffee coloured eyes fluttered open and she glanced up at him. Lying on top of him, she could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and noted that his eyes were closed.

"Don't fall asleep on the floor," she urged. "It's not good for you."

Troy chuckled. "You're seriously warning me against sleeping on the floor? Anyway isn't it supposed to be good for your back?"

"I think it's a matter up for debate," she conceded. "But you need time to accustom yourself to it, if you just fell asleep now you'd wake up feeling like crap."

This was the prompt she needed to move off his body. She reached out to grab the blue t-shirt which she was borrowing and promptly slipped it over her slim frame.

"Haven't you been sleeping on the floor in your apartment?" Troy enquired sleepily. "You said last night you haven't put your bed together."

"On my mattress," she corrected. "And not by choice – I bought a new bed but it came in this flat pack thing and I absolutely despise putting together flat pack furniture."

This caused him to open his eyes, looking at her in confusion, eyebrows raising. "Then why did you buy a new bed in a flat pack?"

She pouted. "I don't know."

Troy laughed. He let out a sigh as he dragged himself up to sit upright and motioned for her to pass his boxers over from where they lay close to her feet. Gabriella was attempting to locate the rest of her clothing which had been tossed aside. Troy had put his boxers on and had collapsed onto the couch, watching her with slight amusement she was in search of her panties.

"Stop looking at my ass and help me find my underwear," Gabriella ordered.

"Look over by my X box."

She looked where he'd directed her and spotted the lace on top of the console – how it had flown that far away she was uncertain. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because I was checking out your ass," he said frankly.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled on her underwear and then her jeans, dressing for the second time that day. "I bet my hair is a disaster now."

"Your hair is perfect," Troy declared.

She rolled her eyes and nonetheless ran her fingers through her hair, attempting to tame her curls. "Um... I should get going," she said regretfully. She wanted to prolong her excuses to remain at his apartment so much, but she did have a life and things she needed to attend to.

Troy bit his lip. He'd known their parting was inevitable but he was getting used to her being around. "Um, yeah. I'm DJing at this party tonight, suppose I should look at my playlist and stuff."

She began to gather the rest of her things, putting her pumps on, making sure she had everything in her purse. Troy found his jeans and pulled them on and followed her as she began to walk toward the door. He overtook her to undo the chain and pull it open for her, allowing her to step through the threshold. He leaned up against the door frame as she stood in the corridor awkwardly. There was so much that she wanted to say and yet she had no idea where or how to begin expressing her thoughts to him.

"Troy..." she said softly, eyes downcast, hands fiddling with the straps of her purse.

He knew what was coming. He could hear it. The very thing that terrified him more than anything, and for some reason with her – it terrified him more than it ever had before.

"Don't," he urged, interrupting her, stopping it before anything further was said.

"Don't what?" she asked, looking up at him, cocking her head.

"You're thinking about leaving me with your phone number."

She didn't want to lie. She had been thinking that, he'd read her mind. She bit her lower lip, averting her eyes from his. Perhaps she'd read things wrong but all things considered with the less than ideal miscommunication at the beginning of the day, they'd had an awesome time together. It hadn't been awkward, and it hadn't just been about morning after sex. They'd talked, they'd laughed, they'd joked, they'd _connected_ – in more ways than physically. At least, so she had thought. And she couldn't help but wonder if there was some reason why the physical connection itself was so incredibly intense. She'd never had sex like she had with him, not ever, not with long term steady boyfriends, and she couldn't help but think that had to _mean_ something.

"Gabriella," Troy said softly, interrupting her thoughts. "You are an amazing woman, you're a woman who deserves the very, very best. Today has been fucking incredible, last night was fucking incredible – every moment, from the moment I saw you to when we finally fell asleep. If you give me your number, you're gonna go home and hope that I'm going to call and the truth is that I'm not going to call. I'm sorry. I don't call. It's not what I do, it's not who I am. And then we're gonna run into each other – which will happen because even in Manhattan it's a small world, and we live really close to each other and you live in the same building as my friends. And I don't want that to be awkward, because it shouldn't have to be. We had an amazing night, we get along great. Can we leave it there?"

It took every morsel of strength she had within to not feel crushed and rejected. She understood what he was saying, she'd known his position – and yet it didn't change the fact that she felt like her heart had been torn out and trampled on.

"Um. Okay," she managed to say. Her cheeks were flushed and this time not from arousal but from embarrassment, embarrassment at being that clingy, needy girl that he'd made clear she couldn't be.

"Hey," Troy said soothingly. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers in a soft, gentle kiss. He shot her a dazzling smile. "You're awesome. Thank you so much."

"Thank _you_," Gabriella returned, managing a small smile.

"You know where you're going?" Troy asked. "So if you head out of my building and go left you'll be on Bleecker, and then Grove is two blocks north?"

Gabriella nodded. "Yup, I recognised it all in the cab. The little that I saw anyway."

He laughed. "Cool."

"Okay well... I'll um... I'll see you around?" she tried to appear casual, flippant even, but there was no doubting the hopefulness to her tone.

"Absolutely. Bye beautiful."

She headed down the hallway and walked toward the stairwell. She took one final glance back at where he was standing in his door frame watching after him, threw him a smile, and then disappeared around the corner.

Troy closed his apartment door behind him and turned to face the room.

He'd always loved having his own space, and yet suddenly, it felt rather empty.

He wandered toward the fridge and collected a can of beer before collapsing on the couch, staring at the blank television screen. Even if it had been on, he wouldn't have been able to pay attention. Because all that he could think about right now was _her._

Troy frowned as he felt something beneath his leg, and reached below and found himself grasping at her lace strapless bra which she'd somehow managed to leave behind. He smiled, fingers stroking over the delicate material.

. . .

She made it down the first half flight of stairs to the landing before the smile wiped off her face. She leaned back against the wall, tilted her head backwards and closed her eyes.

"Fuck," she muttered.

She should have known she wasn't capable of a one night stand, at least not without some sort of emotional ramification. Her hands slid into her pockets as she attempted to compose herself, needing a moment. She felt something strange in her right pocket and frowned, her eyes opening as she pulled it out.

And there lay his guitar pick in her hand. She stared at it for a moment, before carefully opening her purse and putting it into the small zip up compartment for safe keeping.

It wasn't the greatest consolation prize, but it was something.

And she needed something.

_**S is for the simple need.**_

~ * ~

**AN – **Lyrics, chronologically are from Greenday's 'Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)'; John Mayer's 'Your Body Is A Wonderland'; America's 'A Horse With No Name'; Nickelback's 'Something In Your Mouth'; Nickelback's 'Animals' and as many Nickelback 'S.E.X.' references throughout as I could manage naturally. I am not associated with these bands/artists. I just lost my mind and wrote a song fic which I said I'd never do and borrowed their work.

Please review :)

-Dani xo


	5. Five

**THE SIMPLE NEED**

**AN – **I dedicate this chapter with love to Abigail on her birthday; and a day early to Kirsten for her birthday because I guarantee I won't have another update ready for the purpose tomorrow :D

xoxoxoxo to both of you.

**~ *~**

**THE SIMPLE NEED**

**FIVE**

"Oh fuck, that's so good. I've wanted this allll day long."

"Look at the head on that bad boy."

"Impressive, isn't it?"

Troy and Chad were at a restaurant-come-bar named McCall's, sitting alongside one another on stools at the bar. Each had a tall glass of ice cold beer sitting in front of them. It was a weekly ritual, catching up for a beer. Sometimes a week would pass and this would be the only contact the two had – but at a minimum, they made the effort to catch up once a week for a glass of frosty nectar.

"How's work been?" Troy asked.

Chad nodded. "Good. You?"

"Yeah not bad. Pretty quiet. David has taken some time off so I'm pretty much in charge."

"How's the band?"

"Picked up a few extra gigs around the place."

"Sweet. Parties mostly?

"Yup."

This was the usual extent of the conversation between Troy and Chad – small talk about their lives of present, which would barely skim the surface. The reality was that Chad knew that Troy was on the whole, not entirely satisfied with how his life had turned out. And whereas he'd never say it out loud, Troy didn't like to hear the details of the existence Chad had developed for himself – job he loved, the perfect partner. So they skimmed over the mundane aspects of life and focused on the random, or reminisced about the past.

"How's Coach?"

Troy grinned. "Yeah, getting more stubborn in his old age. It certainly hasn't cut back on his energy. He's started coaching this kids team outside of school, like, an under 10s team."

Chad laughed. "That's Coach for you, always on the go."

Troy nodded. "Yeah. They want me to go back and visit them soon. Dad was talking about an the assistant Coach job that might be coming available soon."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Me and Tay were thinking about heading back over spring break. You can come with, if you wanted?"

Troy wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, I was thinking more of avoiding the subject. If my parents want to see me, they can come to New York City."

"Where you can't host them at your place and they'll have to stay at a hotel?"

"They deserve a vacation every now and again. Why not vacation to the most awesome city in the world where their favourite son lives?"

Chad rolled his eyes, not even bothering to point out that Troy was Jack and Lucille's _only_ son. "Yes, I suppose."

They both fell silent, taking a simultaneous sip from their beers.

"So, any interesting stories from the week? Hang out with anyone cool?" Troy asked casually, reaching out for their pitcher of beer and refilling his glass.

Chad set his beer down on the bench, and closed his eyes briefly. He'd known it was coming, but Troy had lost his creative touch of asking about her. On previous occasions, Troy had at least had a hint of suaveness about bringing up 'people' who Taylor and Chad may and may not have been hanging out with at some point. Now, not only was the question just randomly put out there, but there was an edge to his tone, an edge where Chad knew that Troy was fishing and he knew exactly what he was fishing for.

"Dude," Chad said, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"What?" Troy said warily.

"It's been six weeks."

"Six weeks what?"

"We catch up for a beer once a week. Every week for six weeks you've brought her up."

"It's called making conversation, Danforth."

"You haven't asked about my other neighbours or friends in the past," Chad pointed out, before adding quickly, "And _don't_ say you haven't met them."

"Not only haven't I met them, but I also haven't fucked any of them," Troy pointed out with a slightly cocky grin – a grin that was wiped away when Chad gave a validated smirk and a nod.

"Exactly."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's six weeks later. You haven't seen her since. And yet you're asking me about her? You don't keep talking about other girls that you've scored with."

"What are you implying?" Troy asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Well for starters, that maybe she's made a lasting impression on you for a good reason?"

"She was a good lay?"

"Have you gotten laid since then?"

Troy paused, and confessed, "Well, no. But that's got nothing to do with anything."

"Bolton, this is _you_. It's got everything to do with it."

"You're so full of it," Troy said, rolling his eyes. "I'm not talking about this."

"Yeah, course you're not," Chad said, shaking his head.

"And don't give me that disapproving look either. I get enough shit from my mom about wanting grandkids without you getting on my back."

"Does she know that she could have dozens of grandkids running around that she doesn't know about?"

Troy rolled his eyes. "I always, always use condoms."

"They're not always effective, you know, it says it on the box."

"And now you're gonna give me a sex ed class? Coz I came here to have a few beers with my buddy, not to be lectured, and I don't have a problem with heading back to my place to..."

"Oh calm down and stop being dramatic," Chad interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"So changing the subject?"

"Fine. So... how about them Knicks?"

~ *~

Dressed in a pair of sweats, a tank top and a Harvard sweatshirt, Gabriella was peering into her freezer in search of something to eat. She'd worked through lunch, only having the granola bar and banana she'd brought with her. Needless to say she was famished and of course she was famished in a week where she hadn't had time to do a proper grocery shop. She was contemplating between throwing a frozen pizza in the oven and defrosting some mince to make a quick pasta meal when there came a knock at her door.

Gabriella frowned, glancing toward the sound. Her apartment had an intercom system so anyone visiting her had to buzz in to be allowed access into the building, unless they'd slipped in behind a resident. Even then, she didn't really know anyone in the city yet, not well enough to be warranted having a visitor without warning. She cautiously moved toward the door and peered through the peek hole, being filled with relief as she spotted the familiar face. She smiled as she unlatched the keychain, pulling the door open.

"Hey!"

Taylor smiled widely. "Sorry to come by randomly but it was sort of a spur of the moment thing."

"No, it's fine; come in," Gabriella encouraged her, stepping back to allow her into the apartment.

"Chad is out for the evening and I just ordered a Margherita pizza without thinking and I was wondering if you want to come up and share it with me? I so cannot eat the whole thing on my own and as much as Chad would appreciate the leftovers, I wouldn't mind the company... that is if you're not doing anything?"

Gabriella glanced down at her comfortable navy sweats. "Do I need to get changed?"

"You are dressed perfectly," Taylor declared with a grin, looking down at her own dark grey sweats.

"I'll just grab my cell phone and keys," Gabriella told her, holding up her index finger to indicate she would only be a moment.

Taylor nodded and began to examine some of the photographs and assorted decorative pieces which Gabriella had set out since she'd last been in the apartment, resting along a shelf in a cabinet. They'd kept in casual touch since Gabriella had moved in, running into one another in the corridors and going for coffee a few times, but Taylor hadn't been in the apartment itself since helping Gabriella move in. She smiled as she glanced at framed photographs of who she assumed was Gabriella's mother with Gabriella in a graduation gown, a family photo from when her friend was a little girl, a group of people at a bar holding up cocktails and beer bottles in a toast.

She made her way along, fingers resting on the shelf and running across the timber, when they knocked into something small. Taylor glanced down – and her eyes fell upon an object which was foreign at first, but upon picking it up and examining closely, she identified as being a guitar pick.

"Hey, I didn't know you played guitar!" Taylor called out excitedly toward the bedroom.

"Huh?" Gabriella's voice called back out.

"I just saw your guitar pick. That's so cool; I've always wanted to play an instrument but just never had time to learn."

Gabriella emerged from her room, having grabbed her cell and keys and also switched her fuzzy purple slippers for slightly more appropriate ugg boots. She was thoroughly confused, and it was only seeing Taylor standing in front of her cabinet with a guitar pick in hand that she understood. She desperately wanted to change the subject but it seemingly wasn't an option because Taylor was interested in the subject.

"How long have you been playing?" Taylor pursued. "Sometimes I think I should learn an instrument now but it's like, is it too late to bother learning? It would just be for fun of course."

"I don't play guitar," Gabriella blurted out.

"Oh?" Taylor's eyes drifted toward the pick in her hand, perplexed.

Gabriella was an intelligent, multi talented girl. Lying, however, was not one of her talents. She couldn't even get to the point of trying coming up with some sort of plausible excuse for why she had a random guitar pick when she didn't own a guitar. Instead, she found herself with the truth – and desperate attempt to speak casually.

"It's Troy's pick. I accidentally brought it home with me after leaving his place."

Taylor blinked. "Accidentally?"

"Seriously," Gabriella said truthfully – it had been an accident. "He taught me some chords for a song, and then we were talking and I was fiddling with it and shoved it in my pocket at some point absentmindedly. I realised it was in there later on."

Taylor nodded. This explanation alone was relatively reasonable, but placed within context – Taylor did not find it acceptable.

"And you kept it?" Taylor asked.

"Um... yeah?"

"And you kept it, not shoving it into some drawer of random items, but you kept Troy's pick, a guy who you slept with, up on your shelf of precious items? On a shelf with photos of family and friends, with important trinkets that tell stories of your travels, with items that look like they could be family heirlooms?"

"Yes."

Gabriella was staring at the floor sheepishly, unable to say a word. Taylor sighed, and moved over to the kitchen where she'd spied a bottle of red wine setting on the counter. "Was this expensive?"

"Not at all."

"Good. Something tells me we're going to need it. Now come on, the pizza guy will be buzzing soon and I don't want to miss him."

~ *~

Chad glanced around the bar, his eyes falling upon a pair of girls, one blonde, one brunette, both knock outs.

"They're hot," Chad remarked.

Troy's eyebrows quirked. "Things not good with Tay?"

Chad's lips curved into a smile. "On the contrary, my friend, things are awesome with Taylor, better than ever. I was pointing them out for you."

Troy gave the girls a once over, shrugging. "They're okay."

"Not up to your high standards?"

"Look, dude, you're not exactly my ideal wingman."

"I'll go up and talk to them with you, I will! Taylor trusts me."

"Yeah, and then they see your wedding ring and then instead of it looking like we're going up to chat casually, it looks like you're my wingman. It doesn't work. Besides, a half hour ago you were having a go at me for being a man whore and now you're encouraging me?"

Chad sighed, and then said. "Why don't you come over for drinks one night and I can get Taylor to invite Gabriella and..."

"Chad, dude, no!" Troy said, exasperated.

"Obviously you're into her! I don't know why you're so scared of it."

"I'm not _scared_ of anything, you're talking shit."

"Troy. We've been like brothers since preschool. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that this woman hasn't been on your mind?" Chad's tone was serious, imploring.

Troy sighed, picking up his mug and tipping the remaining contents back into his throat, chugging the last few mouthfuls in one go.

"Hypothetically speaking..." he said carefully. "Gabriella is a beautiful, intelligent, sexy and talented. She's a fucking college professor. _If_ and I mean _if_ I had any sort of continuing... interest... it isn't gonna happen. I know that. It was a one night stand, simple. It was a brilliant, amazing one night stand, but nonetheless a one night stand."

Chad ignored the latter part of Troy's argument. "Beautiful, intelligent, sexy, talented..." he said musingly.

"What?" Troy asked irritably.

"You are sooooo whipped!"

Troy rolled his eyes and shoved Chad lightly. "Shut the fuck up."

Chad laughed and signalled the bartender to bring them a fresh pitcher, which was promptly brought over and the empty pitcher removed. Troy picked up the pitcher and refilled both of their mugs, each of them picking up the glasses and taking a long sip of the refreshing amber liquid.

"Troy?" Chad said quietly.

Troy closed his eyes momentarily, knowing what was coming – and yet he couldn't be bothered to fight it.

"What?" he said, rolling his eyes slightly, preparing himself for 'the speech.' The speech where Chad would tell him all about just how absolutely wonderful married life was, that commitment suddenly makes sense when you find the right person and that sometimes the right person isn't who you'd expect it to be – after all, he never would have predicted he and Taylor would hit it off – and so Troy should get back into the dating game rather than the fucking around game.

"You're gonna wake up one day and regret not giving it a shot with this one."

"Danforth, I don't live my life with regrets."

"Yeah? If that's the case, then don't start now, coz this is something you are gonna regret, trust me. Seriously man. If I'd thought that there was a girl who'd legitimately caught your attention over the last eighteen months I'd have said this sooner. You care about this one. Don't let some complex stop you from pursuing it. Not all relationships are gonna work out. Sometimes you get screwed over. Get over it. Not all girls are bitches. This life you're living... it isn't you, man."

"Maybe I've changed," Troy countered defensively.

Chad shook his head. "You want people to think that but... I know you, Troy."

~ *~

Gabriella was trying to decide whether she should wait for Taylor to interrogate her. It was impending, without a doubt. The short time they'd known each other had made blatantly clear that Taylor wasn't one to sit back and watch something go on when she felt concern for a friend. They were sitting on the couch, the pizza box was half empty, the wine bottle was about three quarters consumed. And there was a pink elephant lurking behind them, it had lurked as Gabriella initiated conversation about their work and the weather and the Knicks –and Gabriella didn't even watch basketball. The room had gone quiet, and the topic which Gabriella had desperately wanted to avoid was somehow suddenly less daunting – and there was a part of her that both wanted and needed to talk about it, to get her feelings out in the air instead of keeping them tightly inside her overly analytical head.

"I think about him sometimes," Gabriella blurted out.

"Him?" Taylor knew who 'him' was. She just wanted Gabriella to say the name, out loud.

She hesitated, before stipulating quietly, "Troy."

"Why?" Taylor prodded.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "Maybe it's just hormones. You know, I'm single and I had the best sex of my life with him and maybe that's all that I'm craving."

"It was _that_ good, huh? To be looking back like, over a month later..."

"It'll be seven weeks tomorrow," Gabriella specified.

"Right, so almost two months later, you're looking back and thinking about it?"

"It was really, _really_ good." Gabriella blushed as she spoke – but it was the truth. "Not that I have much of a comparative basis... my prior experiences were fairly vanilla."

"And so you have his guitar pick on your..."

"It's not like I sleep with it under my pillow," Gabriella said defensively, rolling her eyes.

"But you kept it! If it was only a one night stand, I don't know why you'd have anything of his."

Gabriella was silent – and she certainly wasn't going to mention Troy's blue shirt which was in her bedroom.

"We connected, Taylor. I know that he doesn't do dating and relationships. He could not have made that any clearer, and I got into this knowing very well what it was. But we connected and I can't help but think about that connection. It wasn't just about sex... there was something more to it that I can't explain. It isn't just me being a typical girl and not being able to separate sex from emotion. It was there, I felt it between us."

Taylor sighed. "I don't know what to tell you, Gabriella... I don't want to encourage you. Troy is an awesome guy, he's funny and undoubtedly he's sex on legs and despite all the bravado, there's a really sweet guy beneath the exterior. But the way that he approaches relationships at the moment..."

"Why he is like he is? I know there's a sweet guy beneath it all... but obviously something happened."

Taylor shrugged. "It wasn't like there was some big tragic event. Just one too many relationships that ended badly. Troy is a very passionate guy, when he gets involved with someone he really puts every inch of his heart into it. He's had the same experiences that lots of people have had – he's had his heart broken, been cheated on a couple of times. The last one was about eighteen months ago, he'd been with her for about six months and they were really serious and she slept with a friend of his. Since then he's just been very jaded. Content to live the bachelor life style – if you don't trust anyone, you can't get hurt."

"I don't know how anyone can do that," Gabriella said sadly. "Cheat on someone – especially in a long term relationship."

Taylor shook her head. "Neither do I. But yeah... since then, it's just like something snapped for him. Whole new outlook. And from what I can tell, it's not an outlook that he's going to be willing to drop anytime soon. Which leads me back to cautioning you."

"Taylor, you don't need to caution me. I'm not..." Gabriella sighed. "It's not like I'm planning to pursue him or anything. I haven't seen him since the morning after. I've purposely avoided seeing him – why do you think I've kept turning down your offers to come to the bar on Friday nights?"

"I'd just thought it would be a not wanting to be awkward thing, not.... you know... because of any residual feelings."

"It's not a big deal, really," Gabriella said, with a forced brightness. "I'll get over it. I hardly know the guy, as if I could actually be _really_ feeling something for him."

Taylor shrugged. "Sometimes you don't need that long to develop a certain connection."

Gabriella paused, fiddling with the now empty wine glass that was in her hand. Truthfully – she knew that was the case. Instantly upon meeting Troy she'd felt those sparks, the night and morning she'd spent with him had only amplified the feeling inside. Yes she'd avoided blatantly seeing him since that night, but that hadn't stopped her from casually walking past his apartment and contemplating going into some of the music stores in the area. As much as she was avoiding seeing him – another part of her had desperately craved seeing him again. She reached out for the wine bottle, tipping it up completely upside down to empty out every last remaining drop from the glass bottle. She picked up her glass and took a long mouthful.

"Do you have more wine?" Gabriella asked, eyeing off the bottle she'd emptied. "I suddenly think I'm going to need a lot more."

"Do you have work tomorrow?" Taylor asked, raising her eyebrows.

Gabriella shook her head. "Technically, no. I don't teach any classes, its a whole research day."

"Then yes. I do have another bottle of wine."

. . . . . . . . . . .

"It won't take long, come up and say hi to Tay while I grab the tickets," Chad said as they approached the apartment building on the corner of Bedford and Grove.

"Are you sure you can't go?" Troy asked.

Chad shook his head. "Nah man. It's up to you and Zeke if you invite someone else or sell the ticket."

"They're such awesome seats, too!"

"I know, believe me. But this dinner is important to Tay and there will be other basketball games."

"It's not going to be the same without you. I don't think I even know anyone other than you guys that is into basketball. Everyone here seems to be more into baseball, I don't get it."

"We're not in Albuquerque anymore, that's for sure."

"I might wait out here," Troy said, glancing up at the building.

Chad rolled his eyes. "The likelihood of running into her in the hallway in the few minutes it'll take to get up there is very unlikely. Besides, what's the difference between standing down here and waiting up there? If she's coming home she'll pass you and if she's coming out she'll pass you."

"I wasn't thinking about running into her. I don't care if I run into her," Troy shot back.

Chad scoffed. "Yeah. Right. Come on."

Troy exhaled and followed Chad into the building. "So uh... what floor does she live on, anyway?" he asked casually.

"You're not interested and yet you're asking me that?" Chad asked, eyebrow quirked. Troy went to respond but was cut off. "Yeah yeah, making conversation, good excuse."

"Next time I'll be sure to ask you about your thoughts on the type of paint used on the wall here."

"She lives on the third floor. She's like, below us but in the apartment across the corridor."

"Was responding to my polite small talk so difficult?"

When they passed the third floor landing, Troy couldn't help but sneak a curious glance up the hallway. Chad observed this but decided to let it go, merely rolling his eyes. They climbed the final flight of stairs and as they rounded into the fourth floor hallway, the sound of loud female singing clearly heard even through the door.

"What the hell?" Chad remarked.

"Taylor wants you to get evicted, it seems," Troy remarked with a smirk.

Chad glanced at his watch – it was 10pm, not too late but late enough that the neighbours might not be appreciative. At least Mr. Gator across the corridor was practically deaf. He pulled out his keys from his pocket, as the front door swung open the sight in the living room in front of the television suddenly clarifying what all the racket was about.

Chad smirked as he spied his wife and the dark haired beauty from downstairs clutching onto microphones that were connected to a PlayStation console. Taylor was sitting down but Gabriella, on the other hand, was standing up. Both women were oblivious at first to the entrance of the men, giving them the chance to watch and observe. Chad glanced at Troy who appeared utterly elated at the sight of Gabriella.

Since she'd left his apartment almost seven weeks earlier, he'd imagined so many ways that he would see her again. He'd imagined running into her at the grocery store, or her coming to see one of his shows. But never would he have imagined this – seeing her singing, even with her drunken slur her incredible voice shining through, her hips swinging, her free arm raising up into the air as she moved and grooved in time with the music. The music, the melody, the lyric, had penetrated her soul and the sight was mesmerising.

"_And you see me, somebody new, I'm not this chained up little person still in love with you..."_

Taylor was the first to spot the men, immediately dropping her microphone and ceasing her singing, her cheeks heating as she felt embarrassed at being caught red handed. However Gabriella was so caught up within her own world that she was oblivious to them watching her, even as Taylor's hand clamped over her mouth and giggled she hadn't realised. It was only when Taylor grabbed her arm and gestured that Gabriella spun around – causing momentary dizziness.

"Well, well, well. Looks like I cannot leave my wife alone without her getting into mischief," Chad remarked.

Gabriella squinted, confirming that she had, indeed, laid her eyes upon Troy watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. She was quiet, the alcohol blurring her capability to decide what she was supposed to say. 'How have you been; had any good fucks lately?' didn't seem appropriate.

"It was her idea," Taylor said quickly.

"I _knew_ you played with my gaming consoles when I wasn't here," Chad teased his wife.

Troy stepped forward, observing the scene of two empty red wine bottles which gave a lot of context to why the women were playing SingStar on a Thursday night.

"Why hello beautiful," his silky tone came, lips curving into a grin.

Three words and she melted. Gabriella took a couple of careful, staggering steps toward him. "Hi handsome," she said flirtatiously in return.

"Being a bad influence on Taylor, are you?"

"I think she's the bad influence. I was happily looking forward to a night of preparing lesson plans and my Sudoku book."

"Sudoku? You really do walk on the wild side," Troy teased.

She giggled, blushing slightly. "You _so_ were not supposed to hear me singing. I never sing in front of people. I may not talk to Taylor ever again for making me get drunk and be caught dancing and singing by a really hot guy who has seen me naked."

Troy held back a laugh at her slightly slurred remark. "Well beautiful, I've heard you sing, and I've danced with you in more than one way already."

"This is true," she said, her cheeks flushing.

As he had conversed with her, Troy had kept a close eye on Chad and Taylor who were engaging in a whispered conversation just across the room. They weren't exactly being subtle about the content of their conversation – not very discreet glances and hand gestures.

"So beautiful, tell me why a girl like you is drinking a whole lot of red wine on a Thursday evening?" Troy asked.

Gabriella shrugged dismissively. "The mood felt right."

"Is everything okay?" he asked, feeling a wave of worry that something had happened to cause her to feel the need to wallow in sorrow.

"Oh Troy. There's no need to pretend like you particularly care," she said with a slight smile.

He cocked his head to the side. "I am human, Gabriella. I don't like when bad things happen to good people. You're a good person."

"Well you can rest easy stud, everything is fine and dandy."

Her tone was a tad forced and she was avoiding looking him directly in the eye. Before he could press her further, Taylor came across the room.

"Hey guys, I'm not feeling well so Chad is just going to help me settle into bed. Troy, do you think you could make sure Gabriella gets home okay?"

Troy was too busy glaring at Chad to notice the wide eyed stare between Gabriella and Taylor. "Um, sure, that's fine Taylor," Troy said a little distantly.

"You don't have to, I'll be fine. I might be drunk but I'm not a moron, I think I can walk down a flight of stairs," Gabriella said – and punctuated the point by swaying backwards and forwards and almost tripping over her own feet just by standing on the spot.

"Nonetheless, I think I'll feel better if I help you," Troy said with a small smirk, holding back a blatant laugh of amusement.

Gabriella didn't have it within herself to argue. If she hadn't been drinking, she would have been mortified about what to say to him during this coincidental encounter. Instead, she was simply feeling a twang of excitement just by having him within her presence. She gathered her things and Troy waited by the door as she had a few brief words with Taylor in the kitchen. He held the door open for her and his hand then rested gently on her back as they walked up the hallway toward the stairs.

"I hope Taylor feels okay," Gabriella commented conversationally.

"I think it's you that I'm more worried about and how you're going to feel in the morning."

"No pain no gain," she responded dismissively. "And right now, I feel fabulous.

One step down and she was clutching to the banister. "Woah..."

He gripped his arm around her slender waist. "Easy."

"I didn't realise I drank this much," she murmured. "You must think I'm an alcoholic. We've met twice and both times I've drank a lot. I haven't drank since last time I saw you, I swear."

"Let's just label it as coincidence. When I see you next time, if you're drunk, then I may point you toward AA."

"Next time?" she enquired.

"Well, you know, it'll happen at some point," he said loosely. "I didn't expect to run into tonight and yet here we are."

"You just wanted to get into my apartment, you must have planned all of this," Gabriella quipped with a slightly flirtatious grin.

Troy chuckled. "That's exactly right, beautiful. That's how much I wanted to see you again."

They reached her front door and Gabriella blinked, reaching out with her hand to prop herself up against the door frame.

"Gabriella?" Troy asked gently.

"Sorry, I just felt dizzy for a moment," she murmured.

"Here, give me your keys," he said urgently, prying them out of her free hand.

He took about a half a second to smile at the little soft teddy bear on her key chain before quickly unlocking the door and stepping back to allow her through.

"Are you going to be sick?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. I don't think so."

He didn't even think twice, just followed her in, wanting to make sure that she got to bed okay.

"Why don't you go get ready for bed and I'll bring you in a glass of water?" Troy suggested.

He set down her keys on the counter beside where she'd put down her cell phone and then entered the kitchen area. After opening four different cabinets he succeeded in locating a glass, and found a pitcher of water in the fridge to pour her a beverage. He heard the toilet flush and saw her come out of the bathroom and disappear into the room next door. He waited a few minutes, just glancing around in her apartment. It had a contemporary feel to it, but it was homey, with lots of decorative pieces, photo frames, comfy cushions on the couch, art pieces on the walls. It was reasonably tidy but lived in – some paperwork on the dining table, magazines on the coffee table with a stray empty glass.

He headed toward her bedroom, deciding he must have given her enough time. He knocked on the door and she didn't respond so he pushed the door open. Two things registered to him – that her bed was a mattress on the floor; and that she was almost naked. The mattress floated away, and instead his eyes widened as the sight of her standing facing toward him, only wearing a pair of panties, clutching at a shirt and scratching at the surface of the material. The way she was holding it blocked any complete visual, but nonetheless Troy immediately whipped around.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he apologised.

"You've seen me naked and I'm drunk. I don't care," she responded.

"What are you doing?" he asked, still facing out into the apartment, ignoring her claimed lack of concern. Troy had been brought up well, he wasn't going to use her drunkenness as a means to perve on her.

"I spilled pizza sauce on my tank top," she said with a pout.

"Oh," he said, smiling slightly at the concern in her tone. "Just fix it up tomorrow, there's nothing you can do now." He heard some rustling around. "You getting dressed?"

"This seems out of character for you," she remarked.

"Sorry?"

"Demanding that an almost naked girl put on more clothes. Is my body that off putting that you need me to cover up?"

He swallowed. "Uh no, kinda the opposite actually. I need you to cover up because your body is actually rather appealing."

"It's not taking advantage when the other person would be willing," she said lightly. "You can turn around now, by the way."

Troy internally groaned. He was a man, she was hot, and despite his morals, the brief sight of her almost nude body had stirred a reaction within him. His mind was experiencing momentarily flashbacks, images of her smooth, supple skin. "I think you've drank too much wine to judge whether you'd be willing," he said, warily turning around.

She was dressed in a blue t-shirt – a t-shirt that was awfully familiar. Troy's eyebrow quirked, his eyes roaming over her body.

"Oh... I'm wearing your shirt," she said, eyes widening. She'd just grabbed the shirt from under her pillow without really thinking.

"Um... that's fine," he said, swallowing. It was interesting how her wearing his shirt was even hotter than her _not _wearing it.

"I uh... I had it washed and was gonna give it to Taylor to give to Chad to give back to you. But then one week I hadn't done my laundry in ages and it was there and I needed something to wear to bed so I did... and the material is really soft and it was really nice to sleep in."

"Um... it's fine. You can keep it," he managed to say. He wasn't sure what else to say. Maybe he wasn't sure about how to put a label to any feelings he was experiencing beyond attraction – but the attraction was raging, that was for sure.

"I can't believe you still haven't put your bed together," he commented, needing something to focus on other than the way that the shirt was riding up and another half an inch and he'd have a view of the bottom of her panties.

"I need a strong, virile man around to help me out with it," she commented. "You volunteering?"

"You should ask Chad."

"Mmm maybe." Her eyes were fluttering wearily.

"Okay, time to... I'd say get into bed, but lie down on your mattress might be the correct phrase," Troy commented. "Here's your glass of water, I'll just put it on the nightstand, okay?" He crouched down as she slid under her comforter, the alcohol combined with lying down making her head swirl. "And I've left your keys and cell phone on the counter, okay?"

"Mmm hmm..."

"Do I need to set you an alarm for tomorrow?"

"No. No teaching on Friday," she murmured, snuggling into her pillow.

"Okay."

Her eyes fluttered open. "Troy? Thanks for looking after me," she said, and sat up to give him a sweet peck on the lips.

His eyes widened, lips tingling slightly at the after sensation of feeling her lips touching his. Such a sweet, chaste kiss, and it was touching him in a place that he wasn't really aware that a kiss could touch him. Somewhere deeper than lust – somewhere that altogether frightened him, but he was beginning to become more familiar with that fear.

"You're welcome," he murmured, and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

He rose to his feet, flicked the bedroom light off and closed the door behind her. Troy then went back out into the main living area to make sure that her cell phone and keys were in a prominent location on the counter as he had said they would be.

He spotted a notepad and pen sitting beside the telephone – no doubt, Gabriella was the epitome of organisation and she ensured the notebook was within easy reach should she ever need to jot something down quickly whilst on the phone. In a sudden whim, he found himself tearing out a sheet of paper, picking up the pen, and scrawling a note to her.

_The shirt looks cute on you. Hope you feel okay in the morning, beautiful. I'd love to see you at the show tomorrow night – well, tonight when you read this. _

_-T xx_

He placed the note on the bench beside her cell phone. He couldn't allow himself to give it a second thought, to contemplate the meaning to his note and the suggestion. It was the closest he'd come to giving an intended one night stand his phone number in the last eighteen months. Instead he strode back across the apartment and creaked open her bedroom door. The dim light from the living area filtered in to prove that she was still okay – she'd shifted and was now sprawled flat on her back, mouth open slightly, the occasional light snore escaping her nasal passage. He stepped forward and pulled the comforter up a little higher, making sure that she was properly covered and that she wouldn't wake up from a chill.

"Night beautiful," he murmured in a whisper, and stepped back, taking one final glance at her before moving out of the room, closing the door behind him, and exiting the apartment.

~ * ~

He went back upstairs, finding Chad and Taylor's apartment unlocked – evidently they were expecting his return. Despite Chad's lame comment that Taylor hadn't been feeling well, he found them still sitting on the couch.

"Not cool guys, not cool at all," he announced with a roll of the eyes.

"I swear to God man, I had no idea that she was gonna be here," Chad said truthfully.

"He's telling the truth, I decided really spontaneously to invite her over tonight. I had no idea that Chad was going to ask you to come back here after you'd left the bar," Taylor added in his defence.

Troy had known both of them for many years, and he'd developed a fairly strong radar to detect dishonesty. They both seemed fairly genuine.

"Let's say I'm inclined to believe you – what was with the whole pretending to be sick crap?" he asked, eyebrows quirked. "You cannot possibly deny that."

"Just thought I'd give you the chance to talk to her, that's all," Chad said with a shrug.

Troy gave a sideways glance to Taylor, wanting to ask exactly what Chad revealed from their conversation. "Yes well, she's drunk, I took her home, she passed out. She possibly won't even remember that I was there."

"Do you want her phone number? You could call her and ask if she's okay?" Taylor suggested.

Troy rolled his eyes. "No thanks. Chad, give me the tickets so I can get the fuck out of here."

Chad sighed and grabbed an envelope from the counter to hand over. "There you go."

"Thank you. Now I'm leaving, unless you two have any further matchmaking commentary?"

"I think we're good... for tonight, anyway," Chad said with a teasing grin.

Troy rolled his eyes and turned to head out the door. "Good night," he called behind him, and made the journey back down the flight of stairs. He paused at the landing, glancing at the hallway where her apartment was just a few feet away, and kept going.

~ * ~

Less than twenty four hours later, Troy was pacing backwards and forwards in the back of house area of their bar. For the fourth time, Troy creaked open the door which separated their area from the main bar area, and peered out into the crowded in search of a familiar face. He spotted Chad, Zeke, Taylor and Sharpay at their usual table, with no additional companion. He felt the pang of disappointment within – disappointment that he was finally beginning to understand _why_ he was feeling such a way. He'd truly hoped she was going to make an appearance. He had no expectations beyond that – but he just desperately wanted to see her out there. Writing that note in some ways had been hard – but in other ways, it felt right.

"Troy, dude, come on," Andy's voice said from behind. "Time to make a final decision for the set list."

With one final scan of the bar, Troy sighed and moved over to where the guys were scribbling out the set list. They'd added a cover of a song from Red Jumpsuit Apparatus' latest album, and also a track from an old Hoobastank album.

"Dude, the MySpace page says it all. They want us to do _S.E.X. _again," Drew said.

"Look, man, I said no," Troy said, sighing huffily.

"The song went _off, _aren't you the one that is all about giving the ladies what they want?" Steve remarked with a teasing grin.

"There is more to me than being a man whore," Troy said defensively.

"Could've fooled me."

"Look, I don't wanna do the song. What about _Manhattan_, or _Crawl_? Our set is so Nickelback heavy, let's branch out," he argued, deflecting the real rationale behind his opinion.

His band members, however, were not oblivious to the reason – and not prepared to let him get away without a little good natured ribbing.

"Yeah right. You're just obsessed with her and now have a hang up with your eye sex song. Did her snatch taste like beer or something?" Steve asked with a smirk.

"Shut the fuck up," Troy snapped.

"Boys, Bolton might finally be growing up," Drew said. "Don't even try to pretend that you're not looking for her in that crowd every week. We're not dumb."

Troy ignored the comment. "I'm not doing _S.E.X._ If you want to do it, you're doing it without me." His determination and stubbornness was evident.

"So _Manhattan_ it is," Andy declared.

It was just like any other week, the guys making their way out on stage, a round of applause and a smattering of shrieks greeting them. Drew began to speak into the microphone, welcoming the crowd and doing a quick band intro as the guys settled into their instruments.

Troy stared out into the crowd, lazily playing the notes to the opening bars of a song he knew as well as he knew the back of his hand.

There were girls staring up lovingly at him, women throughout the room who he was confident would throw themselves at him if he gave them the slightest indication that he was interested.

But it wasn't any of them whose presence he desired.

There was only one.

~*~*~

_**The one you really want**_

**'S. E. X' - Nickelback**


	6. Six

**THE SIMPLE NEED**

**SIX**

**~ * ~ * ~**

It was a fairly chilly Thursday afternoon in Manhattan, a strong wind blowing outside, and Troy was in the mood for a nice hot drink. It was around 2pm, so it was in between the lunch and after work rushes, and there was no one waiting at the counter when he approached. He ordered a caramel macchiato and handed over his debit card to be swiped through the machine, punching in his PIN when requested. He was eyeing off the delicious treats in the display cabinet but realistically knew how much he had in his bank account and told himself to ignore them, and he might treat himself to a candy bar from the grocery store.

"I'm sorry sir, but your card has declined," the cashier informed him apologetically, breaking him from his reverie.

Troy blinked. He was broke, and therefore he was meticulous about knowing just how broke he was – to avoid this very scenario. "I'm sorry, that isn't possible. Can you try again?"

He ignored the casher's roll of the eyes, and waited as she humoured him nonetheless, swiping his card through once more and allowing him to enter in his PIN.

"It's coming up as declined again," she informed him in a bored 'I knew it would be' tone.

Troy swallowed. He knew his credit card was maxed out – it was a bad time of month, having just paid a bunch of bills. He dug into his pockets in search of some cash. He found a dollar bill and an assortment of change which he proceeded to count out onto the counter.

"I don't suppose I could owe you tomorrow?" he requested hopefully, knowing what her response was going to be. She raised her eyebrows, giving him a 'you cannot be serious' look. "Didn't think so," he muttered.

He was glancing up at the menu; trying to find something he could switch his order to for under two dollars. He was already feeling ridiculous and to go through all this drama and _not _leave with a beverage would be even more ridiculous. He was just about to switch his order to a tall freshly brewed coffee when he was beaten to the chase.

"I'll get that, and could you add a white chocolate mocha to the order?" a sweet feminine voice requested from behind.

Troy whirled around, eyes widening. "Gabriella!"

She smiled what she hoped was a cool smile. "Hi Troy." She turned back to the cashier. "Actually, and could I also get one of those chocolate muffins?"

"Sure thing," she cashier responded, and tallied up the total figure for Gabriella. Troy watched in slight jealousy as the petite brunette pulled a fifty dollar note from her purple wallet.

"You don't have to do that," he protested.

"Oh, I owe you one anyway, from when you bought me my coffee that morning," she said with a casual smile.

Troy rolled his eyes – he knew that she was just saying it to help him save face in front of the cashier. He wasn't going to make a big deal about it, one of his pet hates from his earlier years of working in restaurants and grocery stores was when people would argue over who was paying the bill, leaving the cashier feeling awkward. However he internally vowed that he would pay her back somehow.

"Are these dine in or to go?" the next question was asked.

"Um, I was going to have mine here..." Gabriella said, glancing at Troy.

Troy spotted that Gabriella had some papers tucked under her arm so he assumed she'd been planning to come and do some work while she drank her coffee. He bit his lip. He didn't want to intrude, but he didn't want to be rude, accept a drink she'd bought for him and dash away. He'd been brought up better than that. And so, he smoothly responded with a simple, "Dine in, thanks," and decided that if she wanted to work, he could pick up a newspaper and entertain himself.

He stood back silently while the payment was finalised and went to wait over where the drinks would be put up. Gabriella joined him a moment later, a brief moment of awkward silence falling before Troy decided to speak.

"Um... I guess I had some problem with my money transferring," Troy said, biting his lip.

She glanced sideways at him. Although she didn't know him that well, she'd already gotten the impression that he was a making ends meet kind of guy. She smiled sympathetically.

"I remember when I was in college and I went to the grocery store and my card was declining and I had no cash. I was mortified."

"Except I'm not in college so it shouldn't happen," Troy said bitterly.

He had thought he'd been really on top of his finances lately and so he literally couldn't work out where he'd miscalculated. He was grateful that she'd been there to bail him out – although he was wondering if he'd rather be embarrassed in front of the cashier or indebted to the gorgeous woman before him.

She shrugged. "It could've happened to anyone. It's no big deal."

"So, I'm guessing you were planning to get some work done?" Troy asked, gesturing toward the books she was clutching onto.

"Oh... not really," she said with a slight blush. "Truthfully I just really love it here, I love the ambiance, I love to just sit and people watch. But I feel a bit embarrassed coming alone and just sitting doing nothing so I bring a book or some marking or something so I can at least appear to be busy."

"Isn't people watching the best?" he asked with a grin. "Once I just went to Grand Central and sat on a bench for like, an hour. It's kind of fascinating."

Their drinks were put up on the counter a moment later, and Troy hesitated. "So... if you're not planning to work... think you want a people watching buddy?"

She smiled shyly, ducking her head. "I think that would be nice."

"After you," he said, holding his hand out and gesturing for her to lead the way. She took them over to the vacant duo of cushy chairs by the window – Troy picking up a pile of raw sugar along the way – and they sat down across from one another.

"This is the best place because you can watch out the window but also see people inside the store," she commented.

"You really are the expert at this."

"You seem pretty skilled at the art yourself – Grand Central?"

"It's an awesome place, seriously. You should go there sometime if you've got free time. It's like a mob mentality, everyone so immersed in their world, rushing about madly."

"You sure there isn't a psych major in you somewhere?" she enquired teasingly.

He grinned. "Pretty sure, though I did think about it. To think how different my life could've been."

She shook her head. "You're following your passion. Your life is centralised around something you love. Everything you do has something to do with music."

"Yeah, and barely getting by," he pointed out.

"You're still figuring out things. We're young, you've got plenty of time to get it together."

"So you're agreeing that I'm a mess?" he asked teasingly. "I didn't realise you knew me well enough to have the knowledge to make such an observation."

Her eyes widened and she blushed furiously. "I wasn't... I didn't mean it like... You're the one who said it!"

He held up a hand, silencing her. "Gabriella. Chill. I was teasing."

Even with his assurance, she felt bad at even the suggestion that he could've construed her words in that way. "Um so... how have you been, anyway?" she asked, deciding to step back to basics. "Since I haven't seen you in a while."

Troy grinned, thinking to himself that the last time she saw him he would've been a blur, or perhaps she would've been seeing two of him. "Yeah, I've been okay. I trust you recovered okay from your girls' night with Taylor?"

Gabriella's expression filled with confusion, and touch of worry. "I'm sorry?"

"Last Thursday," Troy further explained, reminding her with a small grin. "You were that drunk that you don't even remember it? Wow."

"No no, I remember the girls' night, of course I do, but how did you know about it?"

It was Troy's turn to look slightly bewildered. "Um... you... don't remember anything?"

"Taylor invited me to her place, we pigged out on pizza and junk food and drank a _lot_ of wine and from there it gets a bit blurry and the next thing I remember I was waking up feeling putrid. I assume Taylor made sure I got downstairs okay. Why, was she talking about me?"

Gabriella's eyes widened – she remembered enough of the evening to recall blubbering to Taylor all about her continuing attraction to Troy and the constant recollections of her evening with him. She felt an inherent trust in Taylor, the girls had bonded quickly – but in reality, she couldn't know where Taylor's loyalties fell and whether she might've said something to Troy about Gabriella's continuing feelings.

"Uh you... you seriously don't remember the middle part of that story?" he asked, swallowing.

"Um, no, I don't. And I'm sort of demanding that you tell me now!"

He hesitated. He didn't want to deliberately embarrass her, but he sensed that she was the kind of woman who would prefer the truth.

"It's not a big deal," Troy said carefully, not wanting to alarm her. "Me and Chad went out for a few beers that night and I came back to his place to grab something he had for me and we came in while you girls were a bit silly."

She groaned. "Oh great. You saw me while I was drunk. Even better."

"Um yes... and then I helped you back to your place and made sure you got to bed okay," he additionally volunteered.

She blinked. "How can I not remember this?"

He grinned. "It wasn't like we had epic conversation. I got you to bed, made sure you had your things, left you a note and left."

"You left me a note?" Gabriella asked, eyebrows furrowed.

She thought back to the note she'd received, the one she'd assumed was from Taylor.

_The shirt looks cute on you. Hope you feel okay in the morning, beautiful. I'd love to see you at the show tomorrow night – well, tonight when you read this. _

_-T xx_

"That was from you?" she asked incredulously.

Troy was bewildered – her shock was genuine, and he was genuinely shocked by her shock.

"I thought that was obvious. I called you beautiful."

"Well Taylor uses terms like honey and sweetie so I just thought it was her. You signed it T!"

"I referred to the show..."

"Taylor and Chad ask me to come with them to the bar nearly every week."

"I talked about the shirt looking cute..."

"I just thought Taylor was making a joke, teasing me because I was wearing it!" she groaned. "Oh my God! You saw me completely smashed – you must think I'm the biggest drunk in the world! I've met you three times and two of them I was drunk!"

He smirked, recalling her remarks about having met him twice and that she was drinking both times a week earlier.

"Bet you're wishing your coffee had some Baileys or Brandy in it now, huh?" he teased. Seeing the mortified expression on her face though, he questioned whether she was in the frame of mind to handle a gentle teasing. "Gabriella, seriously, it's not a big deal."

She was processing the information and despite his words of comfort hearing alarm bells go off. "So uh, you um, you saw me using your shirt, did you?" she asked hesitantly, before adding quickly, 'Because, you know, I literally wore it when I had nothing else clean. I had washed it and was going to give it to Taylor and Chad to get back to you."

"So you told me last Thursday. It's all good – it looks better on you, anyway," he teased. "Rather than being embarrassed about being smashed or wearing my shirt, you know what I think you should be embarrassed about?"

She groaned. "What?" she asked sombrely.

"The fact that I saw your pathetic mattress on the floor."

She giggled and blushed. "It's still there, by the way."

He shook his head at her, mockingly disappointed. "Seriously, Gabriella, you've lived there for two months! Obviously you're relatively financially stable, I don't know why you don't just hire someone to come put it together for you. They have people who do that, there are lots of people like you who cannot stand putting flat pack furniture together."

She sighed. "I don't know either. I just keep putting it off. God, you're right though, that is embarrassing. I'm mature enough to have my own mortgage but not to have my furniture put together?"

Troy laughed. "The way I see it is that you have to have some kind of flaw. You've got everything else going for you, after all."

She blushed, ducking her head. "My my, that sounded like flirtation..."

"You wish it was flirtation," he shot back with a teasing grin.

The blush on her cheeks remained but her smile widened. She wasn't about to confirm nor deny that statement – she really didn't know what she wished was between them. What they both knew was that there was something about their communication that was refreshing – it was comfortable, it was real, and it was exciting.

"So, not working tonight?" she enquired.

They fell into a simple small talk oriented conversation, discussing the simplicities of life and their jobs that they seemed to have skipped over during their last (somewhat) sober conversation – instead choosing to participate in an exchange of innuendo filled remarks.

A half hour flew and both coffee cups had long since emptied. Gabriella was picking at her half eaten muffin as they talked, and when the conversation hit a lull, she moved the plate toward Troy and declared, "Ugh I'm so full. I don't know why I added this muffin; it was like, an impulse thing. It looked so good! Do you want it?"

"Is this a pity muffin for the broke guy?" he asked, eyeing it off.

"No, I'm genuinely full. I will throw it in the trash if you don't want it."

That was all the encouragement that Troy needed to seize the remaining half of the muffin and in two swift bites, he'd devoured the chocolatey goodness.

"Wow that was amazing. At the price they charge for them, I guess they'd better be freaking amazing."

Gabriella smiled. She wasn't going to comment, but she couldn't help but find it of interest how the cost of the muffin was something of relevance to Troy. She was in a fairly solid financial position for someone of her age and if she felt like buying a muffin, she'd buy a muffin. She'd be more worried about counting the calories than the pennies. One would think living in New York City and walking past homeless people begging for loose change on a daily basis would force one to maintain perspective of just how blessed they are – and yet somehow it was this comment from Troy that allowed Gabriella that momentary reflection and realisation that she took her good fortune for granted.

She cleared her throat, glancing around at where the tables were beginning to fill in the coffee shop. "I guess we should..." she began to say, and gestured toward the door.

He nodded, feeling slightly disappointed, but smiled through his disappointment. "Oh right, of course."

They both gathered the jackets they'd slung onto the backs of their chairs, Gabriella also picking up her black purse which was on the floor. He stood back, politely allowing her to lead the way and they walked over to the exit, moving through to the reasonably moderate early New York evening. There was a brief moment of awkwardness as they stood outside the Starbucks on the sidewalk.

"Are you headed home now?" Troy enquired. She nodded and he gestured in the direction of their apartment buildings. "Shall we?"

In silent agreement they fell into step, walking at a moderate pace through the neighbourhood. Conversation continued and before they knew it, they were halted out the front of Gabriella's apartment building on the corner of Bedford and Grove.

"So um... this is me," Gabriella said.

"Gabriella?"

"Yeah?"

"I had a really, really awesome time," Troy said honestly. It had been truly refreshing for him, having coffee with a woman who wasn't Taylor or Sharpay without the blatant goal of winning her over with his charisma and getting her into bed. Despite the sexual attraction and chemistry, the nature of the afternoon had been purely platonic.

"So did I," Gabriella agreed, returning his smile. "As terrible as your financial problems are, I'm kinda glad your card declined."

He grinned. "What, you wouldn't have said anything if my card had gone through fine."

She shrugged. "I guess I would have said hello, but would you have stayed or gotten your drink to go?"

"Probably to go," he confessed – and suddenly was extremely appreciative of his monetary woes himself.

"So um..."

He knew what was coming, and in that split second he didn't want her to bid him farewell and say 'I'll see you around.' And so he blurted out the very first thing that came into his head.

"Your bed!"

A wide eyed and startled Gabriella was taken aback. "I beg your pardon?" She was a fraction away from being indignant and offended and about to launch into a tirade that just because they'd slept together once didn't give him the right to demand sex on a whim.

Troy's eyes widened, realising how she'd taken his outburst. "No!" he exclaimed. "I mean... if you're not doing anything tonight. Would you like me to help you to get that bed of yours put together?" Her expression softened, realising the meaning and that she'd misinterpreted. But then she hesitated, not agreeing immediately, and so Troy added, "I'd consider it my way of repaying you for the drink."

"I thought I was repaying you for the drinks you bought me a couple of months ago?" she said with a small smile.

He shook his head. "Seriously... I wouldn't mind at all." He wasn't going to say it aloud but at that moment he was thinking he'd do whatever handy work she needed if it meant more time within her presence.

She bit her lip. "I really hate asking people to do stuff like this for me, why do you think I haven't asked Chad already?"

"You're not asking, I'm offering," Troy pointed out.

Gabrielle would've said no to anyone else. But having Troy around was sounding like an appealing option, and she was willing to take the hit to her pride. "Oh... okay, what the hell," she agreed. "Do you need to go home to get anything?"

He shook his head. "It's a flat pack, right? It should have everything I need."

She nodded and went over to unlock the entry, standing back to allow Troy to step through. He led the way, almost as though he was afraid she'd back out or make an excuse to turn him away if he didn't hurry and get to work. She paused momentarily when Troy went straight to her floor and waited at her apartment door without any instruction from her, shaking her head slightly and reminding herself of the new information that this wouldn't be Troy's first time in her apartment.

"Since I'm not sure what my hostess skills were like when I was inebriated," she remarked dryly. "Kitchen – help yourself to anything -, dining area, lounge area, bathroom through there, and my room over there."

She quickly pointed out the different areas of her apartment. Troy smiled, not feeling the need to point out that she hadn't been much of a hostess but he'd found his way around pretty well anyway.

"Okay, let's get to work then," he said, rubbing his hands together. He headed toward her bedroom, smirking at the mattress on the floor that greeted her. Gabriella's eyes darted around, pleased that the room was in a relatively neat state with no dirty lingerie lying around.

"Firstly, we're gonna have to move the mattress to the side so we can set up the frame here, rather than setting it up and then having to move it," Troy instructed.

Gabriella blinked. She could triangulate in her head but such a principle hadn't occurred to her – so she knew immediately that it was a good thing that Troy was present.

~ * ~

They worked through for the next hour or so – or more accurately, Troy worked and Gabriella observed. She attempted to work with him but it became evident that it was far more efficient with Troy doing it and asking her if he needed anything. Slowly but surely, the large, long box of wooden slats and bits of metal came to form. Troy had been working slowly, the pair engaging in comfortable small talk as he'd worked. He'd be lying if he said that he wasn't taking his time to purposely drag out the afternoon.

"Would you like a drink?" Gabriella offered.

"What do you have?" Troy asked.

She contemplated, visualising inside of her fridge. "Not a lot," she confessed. "Orange juice, ginger ale, chardonnay... water of course... oh and tea and coffee."

"Actually... I wouldn't mind a cup of tea," Troy requested.

Gabriella's eyebrows quirked. "You actually want a cup of tea?"

Troy nodded. "Why, is that a problem?"

"No I just... I don't think I've ever met a man who will voluntarily drink tea if it isn't with breakfast or later at night."

He shrugged. "What can I say? I'm not your average guy."

"That you most certainly aren't," Gabriella agreed.

"Plus, my great great grandfather was British," Troy added in explanation.

"That must be it," she laughed. "I'll just go make the drinks."

"You're just trying to get out of doing work," he teased.

"It's not like I'm doing anything anyway," she pointed out with a roll of the eyes. "I'm just handing you items."

"Which you're doing an awesome job with," he complimented teasingly with a wink.

She busied herself in the kitchen, surprising herself when she glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost 6pm, time to think about dinner for that night. While she waited for the kettle to boil she stole a quick glance through her pantry, fridge and freezer, gathering ideas.

"Do you want milk or sweetener?" she called toward the bedroom.

"A splash of milk and one teaspoon of sugar," Troy's voice wafted back.

She set about preparing his tea and her own half strength coffee – not wanting to be kept up all night – and then precariously picked up the small coffee mug and tea cup to carry through into her room.

"So, it looks to me like it's nearly finished and we could probably argue all night about who currently owes who but I was wondering if you'd be interested if I threw together a quick carbon-" Gabriella rounded the corner into her room – and promptly ran straight into Troy. Somehow she managed to avoid dropping either of the drinks, but half of the cup of tea rammed straight into him, spilling all down his front. "-Oh shit! Oh my God!"

"I so totally wasn't watching where I was-"

"I couldn't hear you and so I came to the door so I could-"

"But I should've warned you I was carrying-"

"I'm just having one of those days where everything goes wrong and-"

"I'm so sorry!" they both exclaimed simultaneously.

Troy took the mug of coffee which had remained intact and the empty teacup, setting them down upon the closest flat surface – a small ornamental table in the corner.

"Did it scald? Oh my God I hurt you!"

"No it didn't," Troy insisted, glancing down at his sopping shirt. "I'm just a bit wet, that's all. And... your carpet got a bit on it too."

She waved her hand away dismissively. "I don't care about my carpet. It's dark and I'm planning to get it recarpeted anyway. Your shirt is going to stain!" she said, pouting slightly. "Here, give it to me now and I can put something on it."

Troy wasn't shy and she was adamant so he wasn't about to object, quickly pulling the white t-shirt up and over his torso, handing the wet material to her. She couldn't help but take a moment to observe the surreally defined definition of his abdominals, pectorals and arms, even while in a relaxed state. He caught her momentary stare, smirking but not calling her on it.

"Right so I'll just go get this set with something. You can go into the bathroom and you'll find a hand towel under the sink so you can clean up."

She scurried into the kitchen, locating her laundry supplies that were in their own section under the kitchen sink and found the stain remover, quickly squirting it onto the affected areas and hoping she could salvage the shirt. She then went to the bathroom to check on Troy. If she'd been affected by the sight of his bare chest, somehow the sight of him holding onto a pink fuzzy hand towel dabbing at his abs was affecting her even more. She watched him for a moment in the mirror, his attention cast downward, and she cleared her throat. "Um... I guess you can take back that blue shirt," she said with a sheepish grin.

He laughed. "Maybe I'll just borrow it and make sure it gets returned to you."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, I'll just grab it."

Troy followed her out of the bathroom and back into her bedroom where she went over to her bedside drawer. He caught a brief glimpse of an item of lacy lingerie before she reached back and grabbed the shirt, handing it over to him.

"I even washed it the other day," Gabriella offered with a smile. "Haven't worn it since."

"I bet you use some girly washing powder or softener," he remarked with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes. "Deal with it, or walk home shirtless."

"I do have my jacket, I could just do it up all the way," he pointed out.

The sound of knocking came from Gabriella's front door and she glanced around. "You get changed, I'll see who that is," she instructed.

A week earlier a knock at her door had her feeling wary, but the half naked deliciously attractive man in her apartment had her slightly frazzled and she didn't even look through the peek hole before undoing her door, glancing through the crack and spotting Chad and Taylor.

"Hey guys!" she exclaimed, undoing the chain and opening the door. "What brings you here?"

"Well we were just coming home and thought we'd..." Taylor was interrupted by a voice calling out from behind Gabriella.

"Hey Gabriella..." Gabriella spun around and a shirtless Troy was exiting from her bedroom, holding onto the blue shirt. "I think you... oh hey guys," he said casually, greeting a somewhat shocked looking Taylor and a smirking Chad. "I think you shrunk my shirt."

"Uh Troy... you're... here... and not wearing a shirt," Taylor observed, blinking.

Gabriella's eyes widened, realising how it looked. "This isn't how it looks! Oh my God! No!"

"I'm glad to know that what it looks like is an offensive idea to you," he commented.

"It isn't offensive!" she protested.

"It's not?" he asked teasingly.

Gabriella was now blushing furiously, three sets of bemused eyes on her. She decided to ignore his teasing and set the record straight. "I spilled tea on Troy and he was cleaning up. See!" she marched over to her sink and held up the shirt.

"And the shirt she gave me to wear has been shrunk in the dryer. And although I sometimes wear my shirts a bit tight, I don't like them to have a Lycra look."

"Oh great. So I have ruined _two_ of your shirts after you've so graciously done manual labour for me for like two hours," Gabriella said bitterly. "Fantastic."

"Okay, the labour was in return for you buying my drink..."

"No, the drink was in return for you buying me a drink last time," Gabriella pointed out, rolling her eyes.

"That was just common courtesy."

Gabriella sighed. "Even if I accept that, the manual labour that you've been doing is far more valuable than a cup of coffee, and so too is the value of your shirts and..."

"You guys are so cute," Chad said with a smirk.

Gabriella and Troy both looked at him sharply. "Dude, why are you here?" Troy asked pointedly.

"Taylor and I were heading down the street to grab some dinner at one of the cafes and Taylor wanted to come and see if Gabriella was interested. I guess you can tag along too if you want," Chad said with a smirk.

Troy hesitated, the evidently empty bank account flashing in his brain. He was all for the idea of hanging with his friends and extending the time with Gabriella. But he didn't have some secret stash of savings somewhere.

"Um, you guys go without me," he said, unable to hide the disappointment in his tone. "I think I might have to find some two minute noodles in my pantry or something."

"Actually," Gabriella interjected. "Before I spilled your drink all over you, I was about to ask if you had other plans and if you wanted to stay for dinner?" she said, glancing at Troy. Suddenly she felt nervous about the suggestion and added in a hurry, "I got this carbonara sauce recipe that I wanted to try out and I never can be bothered to cook properly for just myself. So I'd love if you all stayed." She emphasised the all, glancing at Chad and Taylor. "If you want to of course. You don't have to."

"That sounds great! Way better than my two minute noodle plan," Troy said with a grin. "Except you do realise that if you cook dinner then you'll be back ahead again..."

"No, I'll only be barely making up for all of the destruction of your property," she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. "That's bull shit and you know it, you're just trying to make me feel better about that fact that you totally saved me from embarrassment today."

Taylor leaned over and murmured in her husband's ear, "So carbonara sounds great but do you think they'll even notice that we're here?"

~ * ~

All three of the ex-Albuquerque residents wound up staying at Gabriella's apartment for dinner, her first dinner party being thrown, albeit impromptu. They were amused by her enthusiasm, as she'd brought out a table cloth and her 'good china' for the occasion. The pasta dish was fairly simple but cooking wasn't exactly Gabriella's forte and she was very proud when the recipe turned out well and was enjoyed by all. They shared a bottle of wine which Taylor had brought down from her apartment – along with a clean shirt of Chad's for Troy to change into.

The foursome had stood around chatting while Gabriella had cooked, and then sat around at the table for a while after finishing eating. They'd fallen into such easy conversation and camaraderie; it was hard to believe that Gabriella was new to the group or that she had only known them for a little while. There didn't even seem to be any sort of residual awkwardness between Troy and Gabriella, which was surprising to Chad and Taylor. In fact unbeknown to Troy and Gabriella, the married couple had shared with one another the conversations they'd had with their respective gendered friend. Chad had been insistent that Troy seemed to have interest in Gabriella but Taylor had been sceptical as to whether his interest was genuine or sexually driven. However being around the pair together had given her a new perspective on the matter, a brand new perspective. She'd practically dragged her husband out the door, bidding Troy and Gabriella farewell and leaving them alone once again.

"Um... I guess I should get going," Troy said awkwardly.

He didn't want to leave, but it was inevitable. She nodded and walked him out, not only to her front door but all the way downstairs to the front of the building. They stood in the lobby, looking at the other one.

"So um... if you're not doing anything tomorrow night... it'd be cool if you came to watch the show," Troy said casually. "I'm gonna hang out for a bit after we play."

Gabriella nodded. "Um... maybe. I might have some marking to do," she said, her tone equally casual.

"Like I said, if you're not doing anything. It's not like we're that good, we haven't even come up with a new name," he said, rolling his eyes.

"You guys are amazing," she said sincerely, giving him an encouraging smile. "Don't ever doubt that. I mean, I only have seen you once but... that was enough to know that your band, and especially you, are truly talented."

He ducked his head bashfully, lips curving into a smile. "Thanks."

"And I will try to make it," Gabriella added. "We managed to get through today without it being weird so..."

"I'd say it was the opposite of weird myself," Troy put forward, smiling genuinely. "Possibly even fun."

"Um... so if I don't make it tomorrow night..." she said hesitantly. "Until we meet again."

He paused. When she'd left his apartment two months ago, he'd sent her away, insisting they didn't do the phone number exchange. Somehow a cup of coffee and a casual dinner had changed everything. He wasn't ready to take her number, he wasn't ready to promise he'd call. But the idea of her not coming the following night and it being left up to fate when and where they met again... that terrified him.

"I'm on Facebook," he blurted out.

"Pardon?"

"If you don't make it... I'm on Facebook. I go online daily, I'm sort of in charge of maintaining our bands MySpace... so... I'm around the internet. If you don't make it, that's cool... but uh... you can drop me a line. If you want."

_Please do._

~ * ~

"How about we just make our name _Presently Untitled?_" Drew suggested, as the band were gathered back of house, about fifteen minutes before show time.

"That's dumb," Troy said, rolling his eyes.

"Let's just leave it as _Little Black Book_. Who cares that there's some other random band out there with the same name?" Andy put forth.

"I care! We need our own unique image if we're taking this seriously," Troy said adamantly.

"Are we though?" Drew asked, eyebrows raised. "Like... we're kinda at different places when it comes to that."

It was the unspoken element that threatened the very being of their band. Andy and Troy were a whole lot more serious about the band than Steve and Drew.

"Let's leave it for now, since we're about to go on," Steve said.

Drew's cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to check a text message. He grinned and went over to the door way, disappearing out into the bar for a moment. It was routine for him – he'd receive a preshow text from his girlfriend who wanted to wish him luck in the form of a sloppy public kiss, making it known that the lead singer of the band was _hers_ and the other women should back off. He returned a couple of minutes later, wiping pink lipstick from his lips.

"Hey Troy, I'm not sure if my memory is playing tricks on me but you might wanna come check this out," Drew said.

Troy's eyebrows furrowed and he set down his guitar before making his way to the back of house door. Drew gestured through and said lowly, "With your buddy Chad and the others. Red sweater, black jeans, hot ass..."

Troy felt his throat tighten, a smile filling his lips. She'd actually come to the show. He knew that she was being sociable and had become friends with Taylor and Chad and likely was there because it was a decent bar with a good vibe. But he couldn't help but feel smug at the prospect that even just a little bit of her reason for being there was for him – because he'd asked her to come.

"Why don't you go say hi?" Andy suggested. "We've got a few minutes."

Troy hesitated. "Oh um... I... I don't know."

Drew picked up his water bottle and 'accidentally' tossed it into the trash. "Troy, do me a favour and go out and grab me another bottle of water from the bar?"

Troy rolled his eyes, but now that the eyes of all his band mates were on him, if he didn't go they'd label him as a pussy and a wimp; and so he was left with little choice. And so wordlessly, he pushed open the door, headed to the bar where he requested a couple of bottles of water, and then took a detour on his way back via the table toward the back. It was a little quieter than usual that night and his friends had actually succeeded in obtaining a few stools which each of the girls were perched upon, leaving Zeke and Chad standing at the tall table.

"Hey guys, just thought I'd say hi," Troy greeted them casually.

"Hey man, you never come out before the show," Chad commented, clapping his friend on his back in greeting.

Troy gestured to the water bottles he had, one tucked under his left arm and the other clutched in his left hand. "I was grabbing these. Literally just saying hi." His right hand grazed on Gabriella's back, smiling down at her. "You came."

His statement was calm and somewhat aloof, but the up curving of his lips betrayed his cool exterior.

She inhaled at the sensation of his warm palm resting momentarily over her thin red sweater. She took a small breath, nodded, and responded with a teasing, "Yeah well, there was nothing good on TV tonight so I figured why not."

He grinned and leaned in a little closer, "Well I hope we can live up to that seemingly low standard."

She giggled. "I have faith in you."

With one final squeeze of her arm, Troy waved farewell to his friends and made his way back to the band, politely nodding at the girls who waved and greeted him as he navigated through the crowd. He tossed one of the water bottles to Drew, and pulled off the cap of the other one for himself. He took a long swig of the cool, refreshing liquid and turned to his band mates.

"Let's do this."

* * *

Gabriella was clutching onto her glass of lemonade, staring at the stage, willing the band to come on.

"So, Gabriella," Sharpay said.

"Mmm?" a distracted Gabriella replied.

"Are you going to stay after the show to flirt with Troy?"

This got Gabriella's attention, and she turned abruptly to face Sharpay. The other three were hiding smiles at the blonde's candidness.

"I may stay to socialise," Gabriella said emphatically. "In a general sense. Not to _flirt_ with anyone."

"Well I hate to burst your bubble, but that was exactly what you were doing a few minutes ago when Troy was out here."

"I did no such thing! What did I say that you deem as flirtatious?" Gabriella demanded.

"It's not _what_ you say so much as _how_ you say it – plus the flirty giggle as well."

Gabriella was about to respond when a shriek from one of the girls up the front indicated that the band was coming out and was about to begin performing. Her attention snapped forward, physically turning her chair so that she was directly facing the stage. She and Troy had talked about the bands repertoire the day before, he'd even asked her opinion about some combinations of songs for their set list. She was more than happy when the highly recognisable opening chords of Santana's _Smooth_ were played – it was one of her favourite songs. However they'd avoided mentioning the song which was played second in the set list. It was a song also with a distinguishing guitar riff, a song which had caused Gabriella's pulse to race a little each time it had come onto her iPod or iTunes over the last two months.

"Back by popular demand... for the first time in almost two months..." Drew announced, speaking over the top of the opening chords.

"_You know there's a dirty word, never gonna say it first, no it's just a thought that never crosses my mind..."_

It didn't matter that they'd slept together, it didn't matter that she'd had sex with him on the floor of his apartment, it didn't matter that he'd evidently seen her so drunk that she couldn't even remember his presence. None of it mattered.

All that was relevant in that moment was the way that he was staring at her, his cerulean gaze penetrating straight into her chocolate eyes. There was no doubt that she was fixation of his stare. There was a part of her which knew it was a stage presence; that the intensity of the song required such a concentrated presence; that perhaps he preferred to direct it toward her, someone who _should_ be aware of his intentions – or perhaps, lack of intentions. But then, there was the red-blooded woman, the woman who had experienced earth shattering sex with this man and had been craving a repeat performance ever since. The woman who had then had coffee with him, and spent a whole day in his presence, laughing and joking and taking in a way that only people with some sort of a connection and chemistry can communicate. Whether she liked it or not, her libido was reacting to him – and it was pulling at her heart strings, too.

* * *

To Gabriella's dismay, he didn't appear during the interval. He did have some drinks brought over on the house by the bartender. Gabriella raised her eyebrows at the red fizzy looking drink with cherries and was about to tell the waiter to take it back when he said, "It's a Shirley Temple. No alcohol. Troy said that he'd noticed you were drinking lemonade."

Gabriella blushed slightly. He'd noticed. They'd spoken for less than two minutes and he'd noticed.

She wished this didn't matter to her.

But it did.

* * *

Two months ago Troy had been like an Energiser Bunny on speed, practically throwing items of expensive music equipment into the back of the van. That night was a repeat performance. From song number 2 in the set, ideas had been brewing in his head. Maybe it hadn't been such a bright idea to do a repeat performance of _that_ song, a song which in the past he'd practiced and simply enjoyed the raw energy but now it translated into _feelings_ on a whole different level. He was feeling rather conflicted, because twenty four hours earlier he'd been contemplating actually taking her phone number and arranging some sort of 'official' date and now he wanted to throw her against the closest flat surface and bury his cock within her wet chamber.

He could have sat and questioned the conflicting thoughts, but that wasn't Troy's style. He wasn't going to question, or overanalyse, or contemplate. He felt a pull toward her, a simple need to be in her presence, and he decided to act upon that pull. The moment that his band mates told him that he was being useless and would break their shit and he should just 'go get her' – he bolted. He stopped via a mirror, quickly checking his appearance – partially out of vanity and partially insecurity – and then paused by the wooden door that separated the peace and serenity of back stage from the throngs of bar patrons. He took a deep breath, and then opened the door.

He spotted her straight away. She was sitting cross legged on the stool, holding onto the stem of one of the maraschino cherries which had garnished the Shirley Temple, and had the delicate fruit in her lips, nibbling at it and sucking at it as she listened intently to whatever story it appeared that Zeke was telling. Simultaneously the group broke into laughter – when Gabriella laughed, she lit up the room, her eyes and lips brightening, her nose scrunching, her shiny ebony tresses swinging backwards and forwards. His eyes were devouring every morsel of her body from afar, her tight form fitting red sweater clung to her curves; the way her skinny black jeans showed off the shapeliness of her backside and legs.

The simple need was stronger than ever.

He didn't acknowledge his fans as he took the most direct route to reach her. He barely acknowledged his other friends, giving them the slightest of nods. They weren't oblivious to the chemistry and they were more than familiar with the look of intent on Troy's face. He slid in beside her, an arm snaking around her waist as he leaned over. She froze as his warm breath began to tickle beside her ear.

"Dance with me?" he requested.

She looked at him momentarily, face expressionless. She then nodded, agreeing mutely. She picked up her drink, took a final sip and then took Troy's outstretched hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. He found an available nook of space in the back corner of the room. Like any dance, they started out a safe distance apart, the chemistry being communicated through lustful gazes and momentary grazes of the hand.

_You captivate me something 'bout you has got me_

_I was lonely now you make me feel alive. _

The distance dissipated, their previous encounter serving to break down the barriers of shyness. Normally it would take Gabriella at least a few drinks to feel this comfortable with a man, this comfortable to less loose in public and to allow the rhythm of the music to pulsate so freely through her limbs. He had an ability to set her at ease, to make her body feel as though it didn't need to hold back from doing as it pleased. Her body sought a lack of distance, it sought the sensation of his hard body pressed up firmly against hers.

_My heart is racing as you move in closer_

_You take me higher with every breath I take_

The bottom hem of her sweater was riding up as she turned to face away from him, her backside performing a tantalisingly erotic dance against his hardness. His hands rested upon the silky smooth skin of her taut waist, fingers dancing over her bare skin, desperate to inch higher but possessing enough common sense to hold back.

_I want you, I want you, I want you to show me love..._

The song came to a close and the DJ moved onto a slightly slower track, couplings in the dance floor altering as groups of girls took the song as a chance to grab a drink or use the bathroom, and girlfriends dragged their lovers out for a slow dance. Somehow the change in the pace of the music triggered something in Gabriella – a change in mood, a change in perspective, being shaken and brought back to reality. She shot Troy a dazzling smile, squeezed him by the arm, and headed back to their friends.

Burgeoning erection throbbing in his pants, his eyes widened, watching as she moved away with a saunter to her step. He stood motionless among the throng of dancers, staring as she went back over to Taylor and the others. He shook his head slightly before darting after her, grabbing onto her arm just as she'd slipped on her coat and shrugged the strap of her purse over her right shoulder.

"Gabriella!" he blurted out, eyes a little wild.

She calmly turned around to face him. Her expression was at first still, but it softened a little at the confusion on his face.

"Thank you for the drink earlier, and for the dance. It was fun."

"It was fun?" Troy repeated questioningly, shaking his head slightly. "After what you and I have been through, that's what you have to say to me? That it was _fun_?"

"After what we've been through?" she said, eyebrows quirked. "Troy... we've met each other three times – well, four supposedly, not that I have any recollection of that fourth time. _You_ are the one who was insistent about 'this'," she made quotation marks with her right hand and gestured backwards and forwards between them, "being a one night thing. _You_ are the one who didn't want my phone number."

"What happened to 'it's always yes?'" he asked a little numbly.

She shook her head, smiling sadly. "The girl who said that was living in the moment. Today... today I care more about going with my head and protecting my heart."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, not understanding her logic.

"It means..." she paused, let out a sigh, and then stood on her tiptoes and leaned forward, her lips grazing softly against his cheek before murmuring into his ear, "It means good night."

And with that, she left.

**~ * ~ **

_It's just a thought that never crosses my mind_

_**Nickelback – S.E.X.**_

**~ * ~ * ~**

**Disclaimer**: _Take Me On The Floor_ attributed to the Veronicas; the inspiration to use the song credited to Jill-Renay.


	7. Seven

**THE SIMPLE NEED**

_Dedicated with love to Kerry, who without really trying succeeded in re-sparking my desire to write this. _

xxx

**SEVEN**

xxx

"And then I decided that maybe archaeology wasn't for me and so I changed my concentration to palaeontology..."

Gabriella smiled a tight smile and nodded, taking a long sip from her chardonnay. She was sitting across the table from one of her colleagues, Mitchell Peterson. He'd subtly been flirting for a while every time they crossed paths and he'd managed to corner her in the elevator on Wednesday afternoon and finally asked her out. She'd contemplated making up an excuse but decided why not – she had to eat, after all, and she'd made the conscious decision to attempt to be more social. Which led to her presence in one of the more upper class restaurants in the SoHo area.

"I'm really fascinated with the study of climates and I'm hoping to conduct a..."

In hindsight, she wished that her decision to be social had come with a disclaimer that it needn't apply to social offers from palaeontology professors.

It had been the week from hell. She was never one to complain about a heavy workload; however the week gone by had been just shy of torture. One of her colleagues had come down with a sudden case of mononucleosis and she'd picked up an extra class into an already packed schedule. All three of her classes had papers due and students who were eager to get their marks back as quickly as possible. Having recently been a student herself Gabriella completely sympathised and every spare moment of her time was spent marking. Additionally finals were just around the corner and so her consultation hours were extended and she was fielding dozens of e-mails from frantic students who'd barely attended class all semester and now intended to learn all the coursework in one crammed period of time. A night out of fun and a few drinks had sounded appealing and she'd actually been looking forward to the date on Friday afternoon – Mitchell was a nice man, he was good looking and obviously intelligent, a quality which was of appeal to her. However a man who had spent the entire meal explaining his life story of how he came to be a history major and his graduate school studies and every little project he'd ever completed... between the self absorption and the mind numbing boredom she was experiencing, all she could do was stop herself from checking the time on her Blackberry every five seconds.

He'd taken twice as long to eat as she had – likely because he'd been talking constantly, and he finally placed his fork down and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"Whew. That was incredible. I really love this restaurant, don't you?"

"It is really nice," she agreed. "SoHo is such a cute area."

"You should've bought an apartment here," Mitchell said. "More of a sound real estate decision to buy in SoHo than the Village."

She shrugged. "I love Greenwich Village. I've wanted to live there for such a long time, even before I'd started applying for jobs in Manhattan."

"I hear that they have amazing cheesecakes here," Mitchell said, glancing around for the waitress with the intent of asking for a dessert menu.

"Oh, I'm stuffed, I couldn't fit in another bite," Gabriella said apologetically. She wasn't lying – she really didn't want dessert – however a little of her motive was to discourage the prolonging of dinner any longer than necessary. "But you can have something if you like."

"Oh no, I'm not much of a sweet tooth. I just thought you might like something." He glanced at his watch. "Actually, if we get going soon, I did have an idea of somewhere we can go, if you're interested."

"Oh?" Gabriella attempted to sound mildly interested. She should've known better – if they'd had dinner on a weeknight she could've used a class the next day as an excuse to get out of a long evening, but with Saturday ahead of her she couldn't even think of something plausible to explain why she should need to go home at 9pm on a Friday night.

He nodded, finally making eye contact with the waitress and signalling for the bill to be brought over. Gabriella made a show of pulling out her purse to offer to pay or split the bill but Mitchell was a traditionalist and shut down that notion immediately. The traditionalist that he was, he then assisted to pull back her chair, helped her shrug on her coat, and when they reached the exit he held the door open, a hand on the small of her back guiding her to turn to the left on the sidewalk.

"Do you mind a short walk? Maybe five minutes?"

Gabriella shook her head. They'd come straight from work together to dinner and so she was wearing a reasonably comfortable pair of pumps. A few weeks earlier Friday would be her jeans and a blouse day at work; however her casual research Friday had been taken away after picking up the extra class. "That's fine."

They made small talk about the area as they walked along. Gabriella's thoughts wandered a little – it was a little disappointing that she just didn't feel any attraction to Mitchell. He really was a decent guy, polite, said all the right things. He'd been a little self absorbed that evening but he spoke about his work with a passion that she admired, and she knew how easy it could become to get wrapped up in explaining the intricate details of a project that was so intimately close to you.

She hadn't been particularly paying attention as they walked through SoHo – she was pretty sure they'd been heading in the general direction of Greenwich Village. She felt a little embarrassed about her still being disoriented in her own area almost five months after moving to the city, and so wasn't prepared to enquire about their whereabouts. They turned a corner, crossed the road and headed to the right up a street. She creased her brows, the area being a little more familiar.

"We're kind of getting into more of a student area since we're closer to NYU but I had a solid recommendation for a bar and I thought we could go for a drink or two."

She wasn't about to argue about the fact, and in the back of her mind she thought that perhaps away from the stuffy restaurant environment they might be able to forge a little more chemistry, being in an environment less conducive to chatter about work. "Sure," she said agreeably.

It was a sure that she came to regret in about thirty seconds when she realised why the street was familiar – they'd approached from the opposite direction she had in her previous occasions in the area. Mitchell came to a stop outside of a bar that she both loved and feared in equal measure. She was silent as he went straight over to the bouncer. Gabriella was accustomed to still being asked for ID and even as her head was starting to hurt with the possibilities of being in this very bar on a Friday evening, she automatically withdrew her identification from her purse.

"I hear the band that play here tonight are really good," Mitchell said, raising his voice and gesturing over toward the stage area in the corner.

She coughed. "Um yeah... actually I've been here before," she confessed. Lying was not her forte, and pretending that she'd never been there seemed illogical. "They are really good."

Mitchell beamed happily, pleased with his selection. "Excellent, I was worried it might not be your kind of music."

"No uh... I really enjoyed their set last time."

"They're meant to come on at 9:30; I guess that's why the place is pretty packed."

The familiar sight of women matriculating around the stage area assaulted Gabriella's vision. She glanced in the back around the corner from the bar – and out of direct vision from the stage.

"Do you want to try to get a table?" she said, gesturing back in that area.

"Why don't I go get us some drinks and you can try to find a table?" he suggested.

She nodded agreeably, wanting to get away from the area by the door, and informed him of her preference for the house white. With people heading toward the stage area in preparation for the band, she was able to snag one of the back horseshoe shaped booths. There were two available – the other one was one that she was extremely well acquainted with already and was quick to head toward the other. She was pretty satisfied that it would suffice for now – they were out of the vision of the band which was her primary concern. In the few minutes she had spare to herself, she quickly pulled out her compact, checking the small amount of make-up she was wearing and reapplying her lip gloss.

If she was completely honest with herself, it wasn't Mitchell who she was fixing herself up for.

She didn't want to see him.

She didn't want to be near him.

But just in case.

"Okay, so, I just ran into a bunch of guys from one of my classes," Mitchell's voice interrupted her thoughts. "They saw me on my way back over here so it looks like we've been sprung. They said they're in your Intro to Modern Chem class."

Gabriella grimaced. "Great."

"Oh come on, you can't think that they'd expect a hot professor like you to have no life."

"Of course I have a life, it's you who they'd expect to sit hunched over your artefacts all night every night," she teased him.

The irony of her joke being that they both knew that Mitchell had a far more healthy social life than she.

Random one night stands with hot musicians aside.

Any other bar – or even the same bar on a different night – and Gabriella would've actually enjoyed her time with Mitchell. As she'd hoped when she'd agreed to going for a drink, the environment led to him loosening up a bit. He was a nice guy. He was kind and thoughtful and even funny in his own oddball way. He was everything that she _should_ want.

However just around the corner on the other side of the bar, there was some shrieking, followed momentarily by the familiar sound of the opening riff to _Burn It To The Ground_.

It was a surreal sensation. A man who had such a pull over her was just around the corner performing. Performing in a way which had a spine tingling, captivating affect upon her. She couldn't see him, but she didn't need to see him for the affect to take its hold over her being.

"Wow, you really do like this band, don't you?"

She looked up, realising that she'd ceased communication with Mitchell for she had no idea how many songs. She blushed. "I just think they're very talented."

"We can move up closer if you'd like to watch?" he suggested.

"No!" she yelped, perhaps a little too quickly. Mitchell, rightfully so, appeared a little taken aback. She cleared her throat and repeated more evenly. "No. That's fine. I uh... I like it back here with you."

He grinned, reaching beside him to cover her hand with his and scooting over slightly to sit a little closer. "I like it back here with you too."

She internally grimaced that her comment had come off flirtatiously. She was wary of not wanting to set off mixed signals of any description.

Drew, the lead singer, made an announcement that they would play one more song before taking a short break, and Mitchell gestured toward Gabriella's empty glass. "I might go get us another round now before the crowd descends upon the bar during the break."

She smiled. "That sounds great."

And then, her anonymity flew out the window.

"Gabriella!"

She glanced up in surprise to see Taylor and Sharpay approaching her. It was a welcome surprise – but a complication, given Troy's tendency to come out and say hi to his friends during the break. She stood up, greeting each of the women with a hug.

"What are you doing here and why did you not tell me you were here?" Taylor chided. She hadn't caught up with her newfound friend for over a week.

Gabriella gave her an apologetic look. "Um, I'm here on a date."

Sharpay raised her eyebrows. She'd been present for the last encounter that Gabriella and Troy had had at the bar a couple of weeks earlier; and had been kept in the loop by Chad and Taylor about the interactions they'd witnessed between the pair at the dinner at Gabriella's, revealing an evidently mutual attraction that ran deeper than on a sexual level.

"You brought your date here? On a Friday?"

"He brought me here," she corrected her. "I didn't know that we were coming here and when we were already here I couldn't exactly refuse..." she groaned. "I zoned out before," she admitted in a low voice. "Listening to them..."

"Paying attention to hear the background vocals?" Taylor remarked with a smirk.

Gabriella couldn't deny it. Other than the one night with pizza and too much red wine, she hadn't explicitly referred to her feelings for Troy to Taylor. Explicit referral wasn't necessary. The look on her face the last couple of weeks when she'd been invited to come back to the bar again was enough to say it all. And the expression on her face in that moment as she'd confessed to zoning out – they knew exactly why she'd zoned out.

"I have to get it together," she reprimanded herself. "There's a lovely guy over at the bar getting me a chardonnay and... oh crap he's coming back."

Sharpay and Taylor both glanced behind them, spying a black haired, well groomed man wearing black dress pants, a navy shirt and black jacket carrying a glass of wine and a pint of beer.

"Mitchell," Gabriella greeted him, accepting her glass of wine with a smile. "These are my friends Taylor and Sharpay. Girls, this is Mitchell."

The trio exchanged handshakes and Gabriella went on to explain, "Uh... Taylor is my neighbour, and the girls and their partners went to high school with one of the guys in the band. That's why I said I'd been here before and seen the band."

"You just said you really liked the band, you didn't say that you were friends with someone in the band," Mitchell said, cocking his head. There was something in Gabriella's tone that piqued his attention.

"He's more of a friend of a friend. I've only met him a few times," she said honestly. There was no need to emphasise how intimate those few meetings had been.

"If you guys want to join us..." Mitchell said graciously, gesturing to the space in the rest of the rounded booth.

"Oh, we don't want to intrude," Taylor said. She looked Gabriella in the eyes, trying to determine if said intrusion would be welcome, in which case they would intrude regardless of what Mitchell's true thoughts on the matter were behind the polite, obligatory offer.

"It wouldn't be intruding," Gabriella insisted, that flash in her eyes telling Taylor that their intrusion was not only acceptable, but it was mandatory. However she politely turned back to her date. "As long as you're sure you don't mind?"

"Any friend of Gabriella's is a friend of mine," he declared with a genuine smile at the girls.

"There you guys are! We thought you'd drowned in the..." Chad's voice spoke, and then he trailed off, seeing what the hold up was. "Gabriella! Hey!"

"Hey Chad," she greeted him.

"Chad, Mitchell, Mitchell, Chad," Taylor said, taking care of the introductions.

"Taylor's husband, Gabriella's date," Sharpay elaborated.

Chad's eyes widened. "Gabriella's date?"

He had no tact. Taylor elbowed him. Luckily for Gabriella, Mitchell was clueless to the exchange.

"I was just saying, if you guys all wanted to come join us, you're more than welcome."

Taylor and Sharpay were already sitting, indicating to Chad that the change of location was officially taking place.

"Uh, sure, I'll just go grab Zeke."

Chad wasn't surprised to see Troy and Zeke standing at their regular table around the corner, given Troy's tendency to stop by during their intermission.

"Dude, where are they?" Zeke said.

Chad and Troy exchanged a handshake in greeting. "Uh, they found a friend. Apparently we're relocating." He cleared his throat, and glanced at Troy. "Uh... you might not wanna come over."

Troy's eyes narrowed. "What the fuck? Why not?"

"Uh... why don't you just go worry about finishing your set and we can hang later, yeah?"

"Danforth, don't fuck with me, what are you talking about?"

Troy picked up his bottle of water and stalked in the direction of where Chad had gestured that the girls had headed, in the back area by the round booths. He turned the corner and felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him back, Chad and Zeke just footsteps behind him. Chad sighed and gestured to where Troy needed to look. Troy followed his gesture spotting Sharpay first and then realising what the situation was. His breath hitched. Evidently the friend who Taylor and Sharpay had found was Gabriella; and it wasn't Gabriella alone. She was accompanied by a man whom he didn't recognise but immediately had a strong dislike for. He could only see her top half – a purple silk blouse. It was work appropriate and yet sexy – he knew she'd be oblivious but he was certain that the majority of the males in her classes would sit there with a boner.

"Who the fuck is that?" he seethed.

"Dude, calm down."

"Why the fuck is his hand on her arm?"

"Troy, you've slept with her once. You have no power here."

Troy shifted his glare to Chad. "We did more than just sleep together once."

"Oh right, you had coffee, and helped put her bed together," Chad said sarcastically. "How could I forget?"

"I don't like him."

Chad sighed. "If it helps, I didn't get the vibe that she really does either, for the brief amount of time that I was over there. The fact that the girls have agreed to join tells me that maybe they did their little secret girly communication and Gabriella wanted them to join. "

"Or maybe she wanted to show off the man of her dreams."

Zeke snorted at Troy's bitter wording. "Man of her dreams? Gee Troy."

"Dude, if you go over there and act like a dick, Gabriella isn't gonna think it's charming," Chad said warningly. He was very much so in support of Troy pursuing Gabriella – but only if he was going to do it right.

"When do I ever act like a dick?" Troy asked. Zeke and Chad exchanged looks but didn't say anything. "I'm just going to go over and say hi, that's all. You coming?"

"Troy, I don't know if this is a good idea," Zeke said uneasily. The gossip line was working effectively among their little friendship group and Zeke, just like Sharpay, had been made aware of the complexity of the scenario.

Troy, of course, was stubborn and ignored Zeke, striding straight toward the booth. Gabriella was laughing at something, what he didn't know nor did he really care, all he knew was that when she laughed her eyes lit up in a magical way and her nose crinkled slightly; and that he wasn't happy that she was laughing at something that _he_ had said.

She spotted him before Taylor or Sharpay, the sudden cessation of her laughter and penetrating gaze causing them to also look up.

"Oh look, it's the superstar," Sharpay said.

Troy greeted both Sharpay and Taylor with kisses on the cheek, and Chad introduced Zeke to Mitchell.

"And uh, this is our friend Troy, he's in the band that's playing tonight," Chad said.

Troy extended his hand to Mitchell, gripping on a little tighter than he typically would.

"Great set so far. Haven't really seen much, being back here with Gabriella, but it sounds great," Mitchell said.

Troy smiled politely, not commenting, and instead turning his focus to Gabriella. "Long time no see," he commented, and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek just as he had with Sharpay and Taylor. He lingered a little longer than necessary and murmured by her ear, "Are you going to save me a dance again?"

She couldn't help but shudder ever so slightly at his close proximity; it was a natural reaction beyond her control. She didn't respond to his query, just ducking her head and avoiding direct eye contact. If his background vocals and touch had such an effect on her, looking directly at him was only bound to exacerbate her reaction to him.

"Are you okay?" Mitchell murmured, squeezing her leg under the table.

She nodded. "Uh huh, fine."

"Anyway I have to get back to get ready for the second half of the set but just thought I'd come say hi," Troy said cooly, before adding, "Oh, any requests?"

"Something by Nickelback?" Zeke joked.

Troy smirked, and looked straight at Gabriella. "We might have to do that song you said you loved, beautiful."

"Today Was Your Last Day?" she bluffed, knowing precisely which song he was inferring.

He shook his head. "You'll remember it when you hear it," he said knowing very well that she was bluffing. "I'll be sure to remind you."

She shot him a 'don't you dare' look, to which Troy simply smiled innocently at her, feigning ignorance. With a nod of the head, he departed from the group heading back toward the stage.

It wasn't his ideal location or scenario for encountering her again. The bar was one thing; but the bar when she had a date with her? He appreciated that it was likely awkward for her as well – one look at her body language was enough to indicate the reciprocal awkwardness. What he hadn't been prepared for was the seething jealousy he felt within. One look at Mitchell and he detested the man. Another scenario and for all he knew, they might've been great buddies. He wasn't sure what he was jealous of – he just knew that there was a little part of him inside that was screaming out, "MINE!" when he saw a hand other than his own making contact with Gabriella. He felt a possessiveness toward her which logically, he knew he had no right to; and emotionally he didn't quite understand. But it was there nonetheless.

xxx

The night progressed; the band came back on stage and Gabriella now with her friends around her, was finding the evening a bit more bearable. It turned out that Mitchell's sister had a brief stint at Sharpay's PR firm and his grad school housemate had played basketball with Chad at NYU – as a senior while Chad was a freshman – proving yet again that the degrees of separation in Manhattan were often fewer than one would think. It was actually not only a tolerable environment, but an enjoyable one.

That was, until Mitchell's hand would drape over her shoulder, or squeeze her leg.

Drawing her back to the reality that this was a date; and that a date came with certain expectations.

Including the expectation that you don't sit and fantasise about other men.

"And for our second last song tonight..." Troy's voice spoke into the microphone. "... we're bringing back one of our most popularly demanded tracks. It's a track which I personally dedicate to a very special beautiful brown eyed girl..."

Gabriella was practically chugging her wine as the opening chords of the infamous song that she had played more times on her iPod than she would ever admit sounded. Mitchell was clearly not familiar with the tracks of _Dark House_ outside of those which had been released as singles and as he listened to the lyrics, his face gradually changed to one of recognition as lyric after lyric was sung. By the time the first chorus had finished and the _"wonder if I'll ever have it under my tongue..." _lyric had sounded, he turned to Gabriella and said dubiously, "This is the song that he dedicates to you? _This?_ To a girl he's only met a few times? I thought you barely knew the guy?"

"Wh... what does it matter how well I know him?" she asked, stammering a little.

"It doesn't really matter, but I'm just confused."

"It's more like a joke than anything else." Sharpay attempted to provide a cover, explaining to Mitchell in a loud voice to be heard over the opening chords of a song which Gabriella had listened to on her iPod more times than she'd like to admit.

"Right."

Mitchell didn't buy it. He was a bright guy, educated, and not naive to the real world. He was putting the pieces together and it didn't offend him so much as it frustrated him that she'd felt the need to lie about it. Everyone came with a past; a past which includes an array of decisions, some good and some bad. Nonetheless he wasn't going to call her on it, the plan was to just leave it be. And so he sighed, glanced at her almost empty glass of wine and enquired, "Do you want another drink, Gabriella?" Mitchell enquired.

She nodded, tipping back her glass and consuming the remainder of the wine. "Please. "

"We'll come with," Chad said, indicating to himself and Zeke, and then turned back to Sharpay and Taylor."The regular rita's?"

"Please," Taylor requested.

He kissed her on the cheek. "Coming right up."

Again the three girls were left alone.

"So... he seems nice," Taylor remarked, referring to Mitchell.

Gabriella groaned, her head falling to the table. "This is utterly ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous. I'm here with this lovely, sweet, charming man but I just don't... I don't _feel_ it. You know? It's just not there. And there's this part of me that really genuinely wants to try to give him a chance but..." her eyes drifted in the direction of the stage area where the band was now playing their final song.

"You'd rather go attack the lead guitarist?" Sharpay said with a smirk.

"Which is not happening. Troy and I... it isn't happening. It's just sexual, nothing more."

"Gabriella... I don't think denying your feelings is going to help," Taylor said softly.

"There is no denying happening, there is nothing to deny," she insisted.

Taylor and Sharpay had briefly discussed the matter after the last Troy and Gabriella encounter. Really they were in between a rock and a hard place. They knew that she liked him. They knew that he liked her – but that perhaps he wasn't quite ready to act upon that. They didn't want her to get hurt, but Troy had been their friend for a long time and they could see that perhaps Gabriella was precisely what he needed in his life.

"Maybe... you should hang out with Troy, like, away from the bar and all the alcohol?" Taylor suggested.

"What, and make myself fall for a man who is emotionally unavailable even more than I already have?"

"I thought you just said it was only sexual," Sharpay said, eyebrows raised.

"Well you know very well that I was lying," Gabriella moaned.

"Here we go, brand new drinks for the beautiful ladies," Chad announced.

Gabriella closed her eyes momentarily, taking a moment to compose herself before Mitchell appeared from behind Chad carrying a beer for himself and a wine for her.

"Thank you," she said, looking up at Mitchell with the most appreciative smile she could muster.

xxx

Across the other side of the bar, for the third time Gabriella had put Troy into a backstage packing frenzy, practically throwing their equipment around as they carried it out the back exit to where Andy had backed his van up to the loading zone.

"Who does this guy think he is? It's their _first date_ and he's got his hand on her thigh," Troy bitched. He was talking to Andy however Steve and Drew of course had their own opinions on the matter.

Steve mockingly gasped. "Did he hold her hand too?" Drew laughed, fist bumping Steve in appreciation of the joke.

"Dude. Settle," Andy admonished Troy. "I know you dig this chick but she's not worth you like, smashing your guitar over. We're not _that_ kind of rock stars."

"Sorry, this is the same chick you've been whining about for weeks, the one who you slept with just hours after meeting her right?" Drew said.

"Completely different. We met in a bar. Different standards apply," Troy insisted. "He works with her."

"So, like, he actually knows things about her and had a pretext for being interested?" Steve said.

"You guys aren't helping me," Troy groaned.

"Who would've thought the day would come that Bolton would be so pussy whipped," Drew smirked.

"Hey, I don't think you're one to judge a man for being pussy whipped," Andy said, referring to Drew's long time girlfriend.

"I'm not afraid to admit that I'm pussy whipped. Troy here is like, practically in love with this girl and he's gonna fuck it up because he won't admit it."

"Woah woah woah,_ in love with?_" Troy said incredulously. "That's a bit..."

"I said _practically_ in love with, don't get your panties in a twist," Drew cut him off.

"Is that everything?" Steve said, referring to their equipment.

They glanced around, confirming that it had all been loaded in and secured.

"I'm heading out. Jam tomorrow?" Andy said, speaking only to Troy.

"I'll text you. Probably for a bit," Troy said with a nod.

With that they went their separate ways – Drew back into the bar to find his girlfriend, Steve to hang out with some friends who had made an appearance there, Andy back to Brooklyn where he had his own social crowd for the night.

And Troy back to stake his claim.

Only stopping to glance in a mirror at his reflection momentarily, he found his way over to the group. In a strike of Troy Bolton luck, he spotted a lone chair by the wall and plucked it up, tacking himself onto the end of the rounded booth, placing the chair down facing away and swinging his leg over to sit backwards.

"Hello again," he greeted them.

Gabriella kept her head ducked as the others greeted him, giving compliments on the set which in reality they'd barely listened to.

"Not enough Nickelback," Zeke chided jokingly.

Troy rolled his eyes. "Believe me, if it was up to me, we'd be doing other stuff. Drew's vocal range is a bit limited though."

Gabriella's head popped up. "Why don't you sing lead more then?" she enquired. "I've heard you sing, I know you could carry it, you could _more_ than carry it."

"That you have heard me sing," he commented with a smile.

"I'm being serious," she said, rolling her eyes.

"If I sang lead, what's Drew meant to do?"

She shrugged. "He's the one who isn't serious about the band. I don't care. He can dance around and play the triangle."

They all laughed at her comment but she was entirely serious, and looking at her, Troy could see her determination to press the issue. "Truthfully we've talked about it... it's complicated," he said. He had no issue with talking to her about it – Chad and Taylor aside, even with only his few meetings with Gabriella, she was probably the person outside of the band with whom he'd shared the most about their inner workings. But it wasn't a conversation to be held in a rowdy bar on a Friday night while surrounded by fans and while two of his band mates were mingling about.

She sensed his unwillingness to talk and instead of reading it as an unwillingness to talk about it there and then, she took it more so as a shut down of the topic completely and felt a little hurt. All of the awkwardness of the present situation and she was doing her best to make the most of it and he was insisting upon not working with her at all.

"So, can I just clarify," Mitchell said. "I know you met Taylor and Chad because they are your neighbours, and you then met Zeke and Sharpay here at the bar?"

"Yes, and Troy as well. Met them all here at the bar," Gabriella responded.

Troy nodded, leaning forward. "That was a while ago. Gabriella and I go way back. I put her bed frame together," he remarked.

Gabriella coughed, sipping on her wine and then taking a longer mouthful.

"Oh, really?" Mitchell said, doing his best to sound disinterested.

"She had it as a mattress on the floor for the longest time, it was entirely unacceptable," Troy said.

"Can't a girl detest putting together flat pack furniture in peace?"

"When was this? I asked you a while ago if you needed any help with your move," Mitchell said.

"Oh, I don't like putting people out," Gabriella insisted – and it was the truth. She'd remembered the casual offer from Mitchell, which she'd taken as being more one of politeness.

"But you put him out?"

"Guess I'm special like that," Troy joked.

By now, Gabriella was literally chugging her wine.

"Wow, you drank that really fast, I like, just brought it back. Trying to get drunk on me are you?" Mitchell commented, eyebrows raised.

"Uh, I guess I was just thirsty," she said, a little embarrassed.

"I can get you some water..." he began to offer

"Here," Troy interjected, handing over his half bottle of water he had on him remaining from the second half of the set. "You can have this. If you don't mind sharing the same mouthpiece, that is. I promise I don't have germs."

Everyone at the table bar Mitchell knew specifically the irony of the remark; and even Mitchell had his suspicions. And if Gabriella was honest with herself, she couldn't deny her childish giddiness at wrapping her lips around the mouthpiece of bottle which he'd been drinking from just moments earlier. She was grateful for the water though – she had been drinking a lot faster than intended and whereas it was calming her nerves, she was a little concerned about loosening her tongue, particularly with Troy in her proximity.

"Speaking of drinks, I might go try to organise a round," Troy said, referring to his connections at the bar. "Margaritas, girls?" Sharpay and Taylor nodded. "Another chardonnay, beautiful? Or perhaps I can organise for an Orgasm... again..."

Mitchell coughed, eyes widening a little.

"You got something in your throat, Mitch? It's just a cocktail. I got her one a while back when we first met," Troy spoke honestly, but with the layers of innuendo there.

"I think I've drank enough for now," Gabriella said, responding to Troy's question and deflecting the conversation away. "I would love a Sprite, though."

"Coming right up."

Chad jumped up and followed Troy to the bar. He had a piece of advice the moment that they were out of earshot

"Dude. Cut the fucking snarkiness," Chad implored.

"I can't help it. This... _Mitchell_... he brings it out in me."

"She's getting pissed at you. Can't you tell?"

"No," Troy said honestly. "If anything she keeps blushing."

"Followed by looking like she wants to kill you."

The conversation was interrupted by Troy reaching the 'no service' side of the bar, placing his order request and the head bartender informing him that he'd bring them over.

"I have a plan here, don't question the plan," Troy said to Chad, sounding more confident than he felt.

Chad rolled his eyes and decided to drop it.

Gabriella was beginning to wish that she'd found an excuse to leave. She was having fun with her friends – so much fun that she was regretting that she'd been so hesitant to come with them to the bar on Friday nights – and every time that she started to relax, she would be drawn back into the reality of the man seated beside her who was clearly interested. A hand on her knee, a reference to an art exhibit he'd been hoping to go to – setting up a premise for a second date, if she was so inclined.

Problem – she wasn't inclined.

And so she was inching away, remarking that she'd heard that one of their colleagues wanted to go to the exhibit as well. Troy was doing his best to make clear that he wasn't Mitchell's number 1 fan which irritated Gabriella to no end. She was already confused enough, and Troy's behaviour was only exacerbating her confusion.

The music was shifting in the dance track direction, trying to lure people onto the dance floor. Mitchell wasn't too impressed with the change in vibe, and squeezed Gabriella's hand. "By any chance do you want to go somewhere else? Somewhere a little more, I don't know, intimate?"

Troy snorted, overhearing Mitchell's remark. Gabriella ignored Troy and cleared her throat. "I kind of like it here..."

"Oh okay, that's fine. Me too, it's great," he said, lying through his teeth.

She smiled. "It's okay; you don't have to pretend that you like it just for me."

"I just uh... I sort of have a session with my personal trainer at 10 in the morning and I don't cope well if I haven't slept much."

"Oh! You don't have to stay. Please. If you've got an early start don't feel like you have to stay."

"I just want to make sure that you get home safely. It is the gentlemanly thing to do. But if you want to stay..."

"You know what? Um... I live in the opposite direction to you from here, and Chad and Taylor live in the same building as me so I might just share a cab home with them. Be economical and all, save the planet. And then at least you can be sure that I'll get home fine."

"Gabriella's a grown woman, I'm sure she can take care of herself, Mitchie," Troy remarked.

Mitchell ignored Troy – completely. He tipped back his beer, finished the final mouthful, and farewelled Chad, Zeke, Taylor and Sharpay, remarking that he might see them around sometime. Troy glared at Mitchell from behind as Gabriella linked arms with him to walk him outside. In a sudden whim, he leapt up, stalking his way over toward the front windows to spy. Chad followed, not out of interest in spying but rather to make sure that Troy didn't do anything stupid and go out there and make an ass of himself. His behaviour had walked that borderline into a place where any chance he might've had with Gabriella could slip away with one wrong move.

"They're talking," Troy informed Chad.

"People do that sometimes. They talk. It's been known to happen," Chad responded with a roll of the eyes.

"It looks serious... ugh, she can't seriously be into this guy? They look like they're having a 'we should do this again soon' talk. I could've sworn she wasn't into him."

"Again, sometimes men are known to do that – want to see women again. You should try it sometime."

"What do you think I'm trying to do with Gabriella?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, let's see, the only reason you saw her again at all was out of coincidence, every time."

"I invited her to come to the show last time and she came," Troy pointed out, keeping an eye on the conversing Gabriella and Mitchell out the window. He'd now taken her hands in his as they spoke. Troy rolled his eyes in disgust.

"Okay. I'll give you that. And rather than _talking_ to her like a normal person would, you had to act like all you wanted was to get laid again. And what have you been doing tonight? The exact same thing."

"What's wrong with what I've been doing tonight?"

"Making a point to her about that song? Bringing up to her date that you helped put her bed together? Touching her arm and offering to buy her an Orgasm?"

Troy scratched the back of his neck. "Well when you put it like that it sounds pretty... I don't know..."

"Sleazy?" Chad supplied.

"I was gonna say forward."

"Sleazy works better."

Troy was about to respond when he became distracted. "Oh God, he's going in for the kiss. I can't watch." Despite this declaration, he continued to peer out the window.

"You're such a creeper, man."

"He wimped out! Kiss on the cheek!" Troy cheered, pumping his fist. "He's shaking her hand... and he's turning around... he's walking down the street... she's turning around... she's heading back in... oh fuck!" Troy scurried back toward the table that Gabriella and Mitchell had commandeered, Chad chuckling as he followed.

Chad and Troy returned to the booth; the two girls having disappeared and Zeke manning the table.

xxx

Meanwhile, Gabriella had returned to the bar after her farewell with Mitchell outside. She got no further than the front door when Taylor grabbed her by the arm, pulling her aside to where she and Sharpay had been waiting.

"Well?" Taylor said promptly.

"Well, I won't be seeing him again any time soon," she said. Her tone was unable to be read by Sharpay or Taylor.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Sharpay said a little tentatively.

"Not when he declares that he's really into me but he evidently gets the impression that I'm really into someone else and that when I make up my mind about what I want I should call him," Gabriella said with a groan.

"Really into someone else?" Taylor said, raising her eyebrows.

Gabriella gnawed on her bottom lip. "I wasn't really obvious, was I?"

"Really obvious no... but you do get this look on your face and get sort of flushed," Sharpay said honestly.

"Argh! I could kill him."

"Who, Mitchell?"

"No, Troy! What gives him the right to be acting the way that he is? Okay, so he wants to get laid. _I get it._ He tells me not to give him my phone number. I accepted that. But I can't... I can't handle him doing this!"

"Gabriella. You need to breathe," Taylor said, hands holding down her flailing arms. "Take a deep breath. You've had a few wines. You're emotional. Breathe." Gabriella obeyed, taking in a deep breath and then breathing out and then repeating the action again. Taylor sighed. "I should've been clearer with my warning you about him..."

"No," Gabriella assured her, not wanting her friend to shoulder any sort of burden as a result of her irrational female emotions. "No, you were... you were perfectly clear. _He_ was perfectly clear."

"Do you want to go to a different bar? I'm perfectly happy to ditch my husband and have a girl's night," Taylor suggested. Sharpay nodded in agreement enthusiastically.

Gabriella shook her head. "No. I... he's your friend. And I have to find a way to co-exist with him. First things first – he has to know that this behaviour needs to cease."

"Troy Bolton has needed someone to put him into his place for a while," Sharpay remarked.

Gabriella nodded, feeling the courage surging through her, and marched back over to their table where Troy, Zeke and Chad were having a laugh. With a violent, annoyed glare she thwacked Troy on the arm.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded with a glare.

His mouth dropped open. "What the hell was what?"

"Um, come get drinks with us," Taylor said, tugging on Chad's arm.

"You too," Sharpay said, prodding at Zeke's arm.

Troy glanced at his buddies helplessly. Chad shrugged – he was of the opinion that Troy had made his bed and so it was time that he laid in it.

Still standing hovering over him, Gabriella's hands were now on her hips. "I am not completely ignorant, Troy. Just because we've had sex does not give you the right to make such innuendo filled remarks and to be rude to my date."

Inwardly he swallowed. He knew he'd been walking a fine line; his hope had been that he hadn't crossed it. Evidently she saw otherwise. "I was doing you a favour," he said, keeping a cool exterior. "Obviously you weren't into the guy. Now that he's gone you can have a fun night with us."

"The fact that I wasn't into him shouldn't be of your concern at all."

"If you're admitting that you weren't into him, why do you care what I did or said?"

"Because I have to work with him!" Gabriella said, exasperated.

"He's in a different department," Troy said breezily.

She was frustrated, and snapped, "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Well, Gabriella, I play guitar in this little band..."

"I meant here at this table. Don't you have a blonde to fuck or something?"

He shook his head. "Come on beautiful, you know I prefer brunettes."

"Troy. I think I made my position here clear a couple of weeks ago. The whole having mutual friends thing means that I sort of have to tolerate you. When you're not being a cocky prick you're actually a really great guy and so I think I can handle that. But not if you're going to keep talking like this. So cut the beautiful, cut the references to orgasms, and stop touching my arm like... like..."

"Like this?" he said softly, a hand brushing down her arm causing the involuntary shiver even when she was heated and annoyed with him.

She swallowed. "Yes..."

"I can't help myself. It's like... it's like we're magnets or something. I just feel so drawn to you."

"Drawn to my pussy, you mean."

He almost couldn't believe that the words had come from her mouth – and he was surprised himself by how deep they cut. However regardless of the level of hurt he felt, looking at her in that moment, he was more hurt by the expression on her face. The expression which told him just how sincerely she believed the words to be the truth.

He couldn't deny the sexual attraction, the simple need he felt for her body and her touch and her warmth. It was the deeper level of his need for her which he wasn't quite able to pinpoint – or perhaps rather than an inability to pinpoint it, it was unwillingness.

His lack of a response was all that Gabriella needed in that moment, and she stalked her way over to the bar, arms folded and fingers clenching at her upper arms as she waited her turn.

Just as she was at the front of the bar, she felt a hand grab at her shoulder, glancing behind her to see Taylor. "We got you a cocktail," Taylor informed her.

Gabriella nodded, and nonetheless turned back to the bartender and promptly ordered a shot of tequila which was consumed before the change from her twenty had even been returned. She tossed a couple of one dollar bills onto the wooden bar for a tip and then turned back to Taylor who promptly led her over to where she and Sharpay had found a new tall table.

"What happened?" Taylor asked.

"He's such a cocky jerk," Gabriella seethed, and then sighed. "Fuck I want him. I want him I want him I want him."

"Maybe you just need to get it out of your system? Do it again, and maybe it'll all just float away?" Sharpay suggested.

Gabriella shook her head. "No. That won't work. Because I want him, and then I want to stay and cuddle and do his laundry."

Taylor and Sharpay laughed lightly at the miserable joke, and made sympathetic noises. Gabriella sucked at her drink, the beverage quickly being consumed.

"Maybe I just need to go home and..."

"Have a night in with your bunny?" Sharpay supplied.

"My bunny? I don't have a bunny. I was thinking about getting a fish," Gabriella said naively.

"Oh honey, you don't have a bunny?" Sharpay said, eyes widening. "Maybe that's a part of the problem here."

Gabriella still appeared clueless and turned to Taylor for clarification as she sucked on the straw in her frozen margarita. Taylor coughed, and lowered her voice, "Sharpay is referring to a vibrator, Gabriella."

A cough and a splutter was the response, Taylor patting Gabriella on the back to quell her coughing fit.

"Okay, you know what? You don't need him, or any man to enjoy yourself and have a good night," Taylor declared.

"Him, any man or any bunny," Sharpay added.

"Need... no. But he'd certainly help," she said with a groan

"Wrong. He would not help. Let's down this drinks and go dance," Taylor insisted.

It was fun, carefree, liberating; to dance with the girls and shake and shimmy and move in time to the rhythm of the beat. They'd danced to three songs, and just as the song switched from being fast paced to more rhythmic, she felt a hard, warm body press up behind her, hands firmly grasping a hold of her hips. It was a body that she craved each and every night - and sometimes during the day. There was no question as to who it was. She didn't need to turn her head to identify him – but nonetheless she glanced back over her shoulder, gaze meeting his penetrating, soulful stare.

"You look amazing tonight," he breathed into her ear.

"I came straight from work," she murmured in response, clearly deflecting the compliment.

He shook his head, not willing to take the deflection. Eyes glancing down at her tight grey pencil skirt, he definitely approved. "Sexy."

"I shouldn't be doing this."

"It's about more than your pussy," he murmured.

She closed her eyes. "What do you want from me?"

"In this moment, I want to dance."

She didn't know when Taylor and Sharpay had drifted away from the dance floor. She couldn't recall specifically which songs played. Her body reacted to him. It was as though there was some chemical in the air, some intangible force that called out to her, spoke to her, sang to her. Her brain told her to pull away from him. Her foolish heart wanted to hold on tight and keep him close.

"Gabriella..." he murmured, lips hovering unbearably close to hers.

She drew in a sharp breath, head turning just as he swooped in, his lips instead coming to contact with her cheek. She could feel his sigh of aggravation, breath tickling against her face. She tried to move, to step away from him before she melted like putty in his talented hands.

It took two words.

"Please stay."

She couldn't deny his request.

She couldn't pull away from his grasp.

Her resolve was crumbling. His warm hand had crept its way beneath the hem of her purple blouse and was rubbing at the smooth skin of her taut stomach. She felt a stirring in her lower abdomen, a stirring of desire. Her hands reached behind her, fingers raking through the chestnut tendrils of hair at the nape of his neck. Her eyes were closed but they fluttered open momentarily, taking in the throng of people on the dance floor. Somewhere out of her peripheral vision she spotted Taylor and Chad to the side of the dance floor – unbeknownst to her, having a flurried discussion about whether to intervene. Taylor was concerned about Gabriella's judgement and the ramifications. Chad believed that Troy was just having trouble admitting it but he really did care for her. Just the vision of Taylor from afar was enough to nudge Gabriella's senses into coming into play.

"I can't do this," she breathed; her actions in direct contradiction with her words, her fingers threading through his hair a little firmer and her hips grinding back to come into contact with his hardening length.

He groaned, and begged, "Don't say that." She turned around within his hold, his hands maintaining a grasp upon her hips. Her hand cupped his chin, fingers stroking over the roughness which covered his perfect facial features. He pulled her in towards him, head dipping and his lips pressing a soft kiss to her cheek before murmuring in her ear. "Please don't say that."

"You've got girls all around us who would give a limb to spend the night with you. Why are you insisting on pursuing this?"

"I can't explain it Gabriella but I... I just... there's something here."

"Something? What is this something?"

He swallowed. "I don't know."

She knew herself well enough to know that as much as she wanted to not care – she did care. She cared more than she'd ever wanted to. And nothing had changed between now and last time they'd done this exact same dance of desire.

"If you don't know... then I can't." She turned away from him, tearing herself from his grasp and hightailed in the direction of the doorway.

Troy stared after her, almost crashing into a glassie in her flurry.

Last time, he'd let her leave.

Last time, he'd regretted it.

This time, he wasn't going to have any regrets.

"Gabriella!" he called, darting after her.

Being small was an advantage in slipping through the crowd and she'd had a head start. He reached the exit and came out on Sullivan Street, looking to the right and then to the left. He spotted her up ahead and tore after her, darting out into the road to avoid the throng of Friday night pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk. She was just outside of Peanut Butter & Co when he reached her, grabbing onto her arm a little rougher than he'd intended.

"Gabriella," he pleaded. "Don't run from this."

She halted her movements, turning round to face him. "Tell me what 'something' is; and I'll stop running."

He swallowed. "I... I don't know. I can't... I just..." He groaned, warm hands grasping at her hips. "It's more than what it started as. Is that enough? God, can't that be enough?"

He was desperate. He needed her. He needed her in more ways than he'd ever craved any woman before. He pulled her toward him, leaning down, the warmth of his forehead pressing to hers. She inhaled suddenly, impossible to be immune to the close proximity of his lips by hers.

"You told me months ago to not mistake who and what you are. I... there's this part of me that believes you aren't that person, you aren't who you're claiming to be. I don't know if it's wishful thinking or a good intuition. But until you can..." she shook her head. She looked him in the eye. "Don't mistake who I am. I feel something too. But something for me is probably different than something for you and... and..."

And she didn't want a broken heart.

"I was him," he said honestly. "I'd... I'd become that guy. But you..." he let out a half groan half sigh. "I don't know what something is. What I do know though is that I wanna spend more time with you. I don't... the idea of you walking away from me tonight and me not knowing when I might see you again... I... I don't like that."

She was still. She wasn't withdrawing, she wasn't trying to move away. Her eyes were closed, attempting to breathe evenly as he remained hovering over her. She felt him move slightly, a moment later his lips pressing to her right cheek, then to her left cheek, and then a soft, sweet kiss to her lips.

"Let's go somewhere and have a drink. Or coffee. Or ice-cream. Or pizza. Or whatever you want. Let's go... let's go hang out.," he requested pleadingly. "We don't have to... it doesn't need to be about..." he trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence – but she understood the meaning. The way that she was feeling, any more exposure to him whether it be in the dirtiest of pizza parlours or over an intimate drink – she wasn't going to have much more willpower to resist him and she'd be the one dragging them into a cab and getting them into whichever apartment was closer. She opened her eyes, pulling back slightly to gaze straight into his. He sounded and appeared entirely sincere.

She swallowed, and boldly dipped her hand into his right pocket where she could see his phone, fingers grasping around his iPhone and pulling it out. He was silent, watching with slightly widened eyes as she held it up to him, showing him what she was doing as she was doing it.

She programmed her number into his phone.

"If you want to see me... you're going to have to call me," she said, looking him in the eye. "It doesn't have to be for a date. But you're going to have to call me."

He gulped. He'd told her that he didn't call.

It was a test.

"Can I walk you home?" he requested.

She shook her head. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because if I spend any longer in your presence... you will be that guy who I wake up and regret the next morning. And whatever this something is... whether it becomes something more or doesn't, whether you call or don't call – I don't ever want to regret you."

Wordlessly, he released her from his grasp. He watched her as she stepped out onto the street, succeeding in hailing a cab almost instantly.

He watched her leave.

He glanced down at his cell, flicking through to his contacts, staring at her number. A number he'd never wanted but now he treasured more than anything.

The power was all in his hands.

And he'd never been more terrified.

xxx

_A dirty word._

_**Nickelback – S.E.X.**_


	8. Eight

**THE SIMPLE NEED**

**AN –** I dedicate this to the amazing women who I had the pleasure of interacting with at the _Charlie St. Cloud _World Premiere in Los Angeles, California. I feel so humbled to have people who support my work on a level that makes me feel far more big-headed than I deserve. There are authors out there who have this incredibly focused dedication whom I admire so much and here I am, unfocused and flitting about the world and updating once in a blue moon and yet people respond with such positivity nonetheless and upon meeting me don't stone me for a lack of updates.

I also enclose a hidden dedication to someone special who never fails to make sure that I know how much this story is wanted and loved. For the record, I'd been planning this dedication in advance, it was not inserted due to a certain request ;) Hope you enjoy your chocolate cake.

xxx

**EIGHT**

xxx

The sounds of Anberlin's album _Cities _wafted throughout Troy's studio apartment. He was lying back on his bed with the thick black out curtains drawn, wearing a pair of cargo shorts. The grey v neck t-shirt he had been wearing had been tossed across the room and the lone pedestal fan he owned was turned on to full blast, the air blowing directly at him. He'd been lying still for over an hour. Beside him on the bed lay his iPhone, open to the contacts page.

_Five Guys, Gabriella, Gerry... _

Every so often he picked up the phone, staring at the screen and scrolling up and down, hovering over her name and then scrolling away. It was a process he'd repeated every five minutes for the last hour, in a ritual each day for the last six days.

A sudden pounding at his door startled him and he tossed aside the phone.

"Troy; it's Chad," he could hear Chad's voice faintly through the door.

Troy padded over to the door, pulling it open.

"Don't you own a shirt?" Chad remarked in greeting.

Troy rolled his eyes and stood back to allow Chad into the apartment. "It's a million degrees outside and I don't have air conditioning. Forgive me for trying to keep cool."

"Isn't this heat wave ridiculous? It's only spring," Chad stepped into the room and held up a paper bag he was holding onto. "Since you blew me off last night for beers, I brought this around." He lifted a six pack of beers out of the bag.

"I didn't blow you off; I had to cover a shift at the store. And I think we both know I'm not in the position to turn down overtime."

Chad had only been speaking in jest; he all too well appreciated the need for Troy to do overtime. A fact which was illustrated in perfect fashion when Chad plucked a couple of beers out for them and then opened the fridge to put the others away – noting the bareness with the exception of a pizza box, a couple of carrots, a few bottles of water and a carton of milk which he wasn't inclined to look at the expiration date of.

They settled onto the couch – Troy pulled on his shirt and moved the pedestal fan a few feet, having to unplug it and bring over to plug it into a different socket in order to have it blowing directly on them.

"So. How's things?" Chad said casually. "Overtime aside."

Troy shrugged. "Same old, same old. You?"

"About that." Chad paused. Subtlety wasn't his greatest strength. "Talked to anyone interesting lately?"

"Yeah actually at work the other day this random guy came in with a canary on his shoulder and..." Troy trailed off, spotting the blank look on Chad's face. "Why do I get the impression that you weren't asking me about random people I met and that you've got some, like, sneaky reason for being here today?"

Chad sighed. He'd lasted about a minute before being sprung. He decided that bluntness was his best approach. "Why haven't you called her?"

Troy gaped at him – there was no need for clarification of her, and he didn't even contemplate playing dumb because he knew all too well that it was a waste of time and they'd just wind up talking about the truth sooner or later. "How do you know about that?"

"Girls talk. And wives talk to their husbands," Chad said, the explanation rather obvious to him.

Troy narrowed his eyes. "Gabriella told Taylor?"

"Uh-huh."

"Gabriella was talking about me?" There was a glimmer of pleasure in his tone.

"Just the other day," Chad revealed, figuring that as long as he was having the conversation at all he might as well go with full disclosure in the hope of maximum impact. "She sounded a bit upset."

The pleasure which had been in Troy's tone dissipated. "About how I hadn't called?"

He really didn't like the thought of being _that guy_, that guy who said he'd call and then didn't, the guy who makes a girl wait by her phone in anticipation and doesn't deliver. In particular, he didn't like the thought of being _that guy_ where Gabriella was concerned. And yet it was Thursday evening, almost a week had gone by, and he was doing exactly that – being _that guy._

"Well, are you going to call?" Chad asked bluntly.

He'd known Troy since preschool – they were more than best friends, they were brothers. But strangely over the few months he'd gotten to know their neighbour Gabriella, she'd grown on him and he'd developed a protectiveness over her. However not only did he know that he wouldn't be happy if she got hurt – he knew that Troy didn't want to intentionally hurt her. But a few bad decisions and he was very much so in the position to do precisely that. Hurt the one girl who had actually succeeded in capturing a piece of him.

Troy picked up the lonesome ratty off-white cushion which 'decorated' his sofa. It had a series of dirty marks caused by spilled food and drink he'd failed to clean up properly – partly due to a lack of knowledge how, partly because he didn't own the right cleaning products, but mostly due to a lack of care. The soft object was being wrangled by his hands.

"You know, I went to call her the other day."

"Went to?"

"Yup. I dialled the number and everything."

Chad was confused. "So, what happened?"

Troy stared at the cushion – not able to look Chad in the eye as he made the following slightly embarrassing confession. "I got a recorded message from AT&T telling me that my service has been disconnected."

"Say what?" Chad was still a little confused.

"I hadn't paid the bill."

Chad sighed. "If you need money..."

"No! It's sorted already," Troy assured him. "It was just a problem with some money transferring on time. It's fine now. But when that happened it was like, a light bulb moment. I'm fucked up. I can't commit to paying off my credit card on time, let alone to an amazing woman like her. And I... she shouldn't have to put up with my shit. She deserves someone who can take her out for fancy dinners and..."

"Dude, shut up."

Troy stared back at Chad, taken back by the force of his tone of frustration. "Excuse me?"

"What happened to the guy who was so cocky and sure that he could land her?"

"This isn't about sex anymore."

"Finally, you admit it," Chad said with a smirk, and then turned serious. "So what is it about?"

Troy groaned, bringing the cushion to his face momentarily and growling into it. "You sound like her."

"It's a valid question."

"Why? Why is it valid? Can't a guy suggest coffee to a girl without having to justify 'what it's about'?" Troy said, making air quotes. "We haven't even been on a date and it's like I have to know exactly what I want."

"Under normal circumstances, sure you wouldn't have to. But you guys haven't followed conventional here," Chad pointed out. "And you know what, if I was her and a guy who I'd had what was seemingly a one night stand with had continued to show interest on a sexual level and then suddenly was talking about coffee – I think she's got the right to ask questions."

"I told her it's about more. That's all that matters, isn't it?"

Chad shrugged. "I might be married but like, I don't even get Taylor's mind half the time. I wouldn't even try to understand the mind of any other female." He paused, and then added slowly, "But the little I do get? She's really into you, like, I think she likes you a lot. _Why _I don't know," he teased.

Troy ignored the latter teasing remark, focused on the former part of the statement. He cocked his head. "You think?"

A nod was the only response Chad gave. They both sat in silence, taking slow sips of their beers.

"What if I fuck it up?" Troy asked quietly.

"What if you don't?" Chad countered.

"But what if I do?"

"Dude. She doesn't think that you're perfect. She's into you. She knows you're fucked up, and she's into you anyway. She's not gonna take crap, but she's not gonna write you off because of it. You're just making excuses. Grow some balls, just ask her the question."

"The question?"

"You know. _Will you come to dinner with me? _Hell, make it coffee if it's less scary. But just _ask."_

Again it went quiet. Again beer was consumed.

"Hey, where's your phone?" Chad asked casually.

"Over there somewhere," Troy said, gesturing toward his bed. He was a bit distracted, his thoughts deep as he contemplated the candidness of the conversation he'd just had. It was the most honest he'd been about his feelings for Gabriella, and it surprised him that he wasn't feeling more uneasy about being so honest. In that moment of distracted contemplation he'd not clicked that Chad enquiring about the whereabouts of his phone was peculiar. It was only when Chad stood up with determination and stalked over to the bed that Troy's eyes widened. "Why?"

Chad didn't respond. He just spotted the iPhone on the bed – with a prominent crack down the plastic cover – and snatched it up. It took him a moment but he navigated to the contacts, Troy rising to his feet and watching with wide eyes.

"What are you doing?" Troy asked with alarm.

Chad grinned as he found the contacts list, found her name, and dialled the number. He handed the phone back and Troy stared at the screen,

"Dude!" he hissed in alarm.

"Don't hang up, then she'll think you like, accidentally dialled her," Chad warned.

Troy was stuck. He had no choice but to bring the phone to his ear and wait.

And wait.

As it rang out.

"_Hi there, you've reached Gabriella Montez, I'm sorry I can't take your call at the moment but if you leave a message with your name and number I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you!"_

"Hi um Gabriella this is um Troy. Um... I... sorry for not calling sooner I uh... I've been busy. I uh... I just wanted to um... look, if you could call me back that'd be neat. Thanks bye."

The moment that Troy hung up, Chad burst into laughter. "Neat? That'd be _neat?_"

Troy tossed the phone onto the couch and then punched Chad on the arm, somewhere between playful and serious. Chad was still laughing but grabbed at his upper arm which smarted from the force of Troy's strike.

"What the fuck, dude?" Troy groaned. "Seriously? What. The. Fuck."

"If I'd left here today and you hadn't called her then you were gonna not call and make up more excuses," Chad said plainly.

"Not true," Troy said sourly, although deep down he knew that it was a strong possibility.

"It's done now. No point in being pissy."

"Thanks to you she has a dumbass message from me using the word _neat_."

"I'd be more worried about the eighty five times you used the word 'um' myself."

xxx

Worry was precisely what Troy did.

He would never confess it out loud to a single soul, but when he hadn't heard back from Gabriella later that evening he was concerned. By morning he was anxious, turning up _Hello Alone_ by Anberlin on his iPod as he walked to work. By evening he was panicked. Gathered backstage at The Lion's Den with his bandmates, finalising their set list, he found himself suggesting songs they'd dabbled with in the past like _Since I Don't Have You _by Guns N Roses and _Something for the Pain_ by Bon Jovi.

_S.E.X._ was struck off the set list with a violent flourish of the pen across the page, the force of Troy's pen stroke almost tearing the paper.

"Dude?" Andy said questioningly, with eyebrows raised.

"We don't wanna overplay it," Troy returned tightly.

To the untrained eye, Troy was the same talented musician he was week in, week out. However those familiar with him knew that there was something off about his behaviour. A lack of spark; not quite the same charm oozing from every movement. His head was down, he played the notes, he sang the lyrics, he looked up and smiled only when someone would call out to him and even then the smile wasn't the cocky, flirtatious grin he'd normally flash – it was false, forced. He didn't come out to chat to his friends before the set or during the break, only appearing after they'd finished and packed away their instruments for the evening.

He ignored Zeke's extended hand ready for a shake in greeting, isntead turning straight to Taylor.

"Why hasn't she called me back?" he demanded, having to raise his voice to be heard over the music.

"Hello to you too," Taylor said, lips curving up at Troy's state. It wasn't a Troy that she'd seen – ever. She'd heard stories from Chad about Troy in high school stressing about what flowers to get his girlfriend Tess for their one month anniversary and about how devastated he'd been at the two month mark when Tess's parents had announced they were moving to Germany. She'd heard about a more vulnerable Troy who existed beneath his facade, but she'd never really seen him – even before he'd put up the walls and written off women as the evil sex only required for fulfilling simple human needs, she'd not really been witness to this Troy.

Troy was beyond formalities. In his mind, he'd put himself out there in a way that he hadn't put himself out in a very long time. He knew his gossiping circle of friends well enough to know that there were no secrets, no need to be coy.

"Wasn't my message good enough? Maybe she just doesn't want to talk to me. I know I took a little while to call her but I really have been busy and..."

Taylor raised her hand, silencing him. "Troy. I don't know why she hasn't called you. I haven't talked to her in a few days. The last I talked to her she was swamped with work, so maybe that's why. And if you're so desperate to call her, why don't you just call her back again?"

"Call her back again?" he said dumbly, eyes widening at the mere prospect.

Sharpay contributed an explanation. "It's where you pick up your phone and dial the number."

He glared at her condescending tone before replying, "But then I seem desperate."

"You are desperate," Zeke smirked.

The glare shifted. "I am not desperate."

Taylor thwacked Zeke on the arm. The last thing that Troy needed was his friends adding to his already messed up interpretations of relationships and how to interact with women. "You won't seem desperate; you'll come across as being actually interested in her. Which, given the current scenario, would work in your favour," Taylor pointed out.

"No I... ugh. It's only been a day. Maybe I'll wait a little while and then call her back," Troy said.

"You waited six days to call her and she doesn't call you back within 24 hours and you're freaking out?" Sharpay remarked.

Troy blinked. "You think she's purposely not calling me back?"

"That's what I'd do."

"Well... that's... that's kinda bitchy if that's really what she's doing. Why would she do that?"

Sharpay leaned over, her hand slipping into Troy's right pocket.

"Hey, watch it," Zeke said jokingly – knowing that there was nothing sexual about the wriggling of her hand, despite the appearance it gave off.

Sharpay emerged with Troy's battered phone, and handed it to him. "Only one way to find out."

Troy paused thoughtfully, before brightening up with a, "You're totally right, I should've done this earlier."

He made a big show of dialling a number and bringing the phone to his ear and waiting.

Moments later, Sharpay's Blackberry began ringing from, the chorus of _Boys, Boys, Boys_ becoming a little louder as she fished the black cell from the confines of her silver clutch. She glanced at the screen, and then rolled her eyes, looking up at Troy with a smirk on his lips. She answered her phone with a sarcastic, "See, you do know how to call a girl."

He ended the call with a roll of the eyes. "I'm going out with Andy. Thanks for coming. See you guys later."

"Troy," Chad called after him, and he begrudgingly turned back to face his friend. "Three times is desperate. Twice... twice is acceptable. Especially when you _did_ take a week..."

"Six days," Troy interjected.

"_Almost _a week..." Chad corrected himself with a roll of the eyes. "... to call her. If you fuck this one up, you're gonna regret it. You might not admit that to anyone, but you know it's true."

A long hard stare between the two brothers was all that Chad needed to validate his opinion and all Troy needed to admit Chad's correctness to himself. Troy headed out the back to where Andy was waiting for him.

"Oh no. What's she done now?" Andy said.

"Huh?"

"That look of gloom you've had on your face all night is like, seriously killing me. It's too bad you refuse to write lyrics because you could pen some killer shit right now while you're pining after this chick."

Troy didn't respond to Andy's comment about his lack of lyrical composition, instead saying, "I know I said I was gonna come hang with you and your buddies but I kinda think I might just go home."

Andy shrugged, not phased. "Suit yourself. You want a ride?"

It wasn't too long of a walk from the bar to Troy's – being on the border of SoHo and The Village – but it wasn't a walk that was enjoyable late on a Friday, mostly because of the throng of partly drunk patrons in all of the neighbourhood bars filling the sidewalks. The lack of cash he was rolling around in also made a free ride as opposed to a cab ideal, so he nodded and hopped into the passenger side of the van.

"So I got Gabriella's number last Friday," Troy revealed to Andy as he backed out of the alleyway.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah... I kinda didn't call straight away. And when I called I got her voicemail and she hasn't called back. I think she's punishing me."

"When did you call her?" Andy asked.

"Err, yesterday."

"Call her again."

Troy sighed with irritation. "I knew you'd say that."

"That's why you asked me. You knew I'd say that, and you knew that you needed to hear it."

"I've already heard it," Troy said glumly.

"I've known you for a while now and I seriously don't get you, man. I know you had a few shitty relationships but doesn't everyone? You're just making it more complicated than it needs to be."

"I seem to do that."

"You like her?"

"Yeah."

"You wanna see her again?"

"Yeah."

"Then make it happen."

Troy was silent and when he finally spoke, it was on a different topic completely. "You think the guys were okay with rehearsing Monday night instead of Sunday?"

Andy knew that Troy was changing the subject, but allowed him to do so. "Yeah, they seemed cool. What's this gig you picked up?"

Troy grimaced. "One I'm not looking forward to at all. I'm DJing at this girls birthday party out in New Jersey."

"How are you getting out there with all your equipment? Don't you normally do college gigs around here?"

"Yeah. I was thinking about renting a car. I haven't quite worked out the details yet."

Andy frowned. "Let me know if you need a ride, I'm not doing anything Sunday."

"Nah man, it's totally out of the way for you."

"Hey, you kept saying that I could come help you at one of your gigs."

Troy smirked. "I'm pretty sure you had the college party scene in mind, not some teeny bopper who will want Kesha and Bieber playing."

"You have Bieber in your set?"

"Fuck no. But if they give me the CD..."

Andy shuddered. "Anyway, let me know. The offer is there. You can give me for gas whatever you would've paid for a car and then you don't have to worry about the hassle."

"I'll think about it," Troy said truthfully.

Andy pulled up outside of Troy's apartment building on Jones Street. "Sure you don't want to go out for a few drinks with the guys?" he prodded with a final offer.

Troy wrinkled his nose. "Thanks but no thanks. Next week, maybe?"

"Sure. Let me know about Sunday."

A fist pump took place of a farewell handshake and Troy slid out of the passenger side of the van. He darted up the stairs toward his apartment, taking two at a time. He went on autopilot once he entered his familiar studio apartment – dropping his keys onto the kitchen bench, grabbing a can of beer from the fridge, peeling off his dark green hooded sweat shirt and dropping it onto the couch, and then heading over to his bed. He always felt a bit grubby after doing a set – whether it was the sweat he worked up while performing or the stale smell of beer and cigarettes which inevitably made their way to his clothing, even since the ban on smoking in bars. He reached beneath his bed into one of the pull out drawers, in search of a wife beater and sweats to change into after a shower, and his fingers grasped something unfamiliar. He cocked his head and withdrew the item – and a smile filled his face.

He had an in.

Abandoning the thought of showering altogether, he sprung up, the open beer left on the counter, his keys and sweatshirt snatched up, and the item he'd found shoved into his pocket.

At a brisk pace, it was less than ten minutes, closer to five. He headed out left on Jones, right on Bleecker, pausing momentarily outside of Five Guys – who served the best burgers and fries in the world, in Troy's opinion – to take a whiff of the air. He continued on, turning left on Grove and heading the one block west. He paused for a moment outside the building, contemplating which buzzer to press. He decided and to his good fortune, the occupant was home.

"Yo?"

"Chad, buddy, can you let me into the building? I'm uh... visiting someone..."

An exasperated sigh came over the intercom, and a moment later the familiar buzzing of the door opening sounded. Troy slipped through the entrance way, and just as he was almost at the top of the flight of stairs that led to his destination, Chad's head popped from around the corner. He cocked his head, standing arms folded across his chest in front of Troy.

"What are you doing?" Chad asked, effectively blocking his friend.

Troy stared back. "None of your business."

"I let you into the building so it is my business."

"Well I wasn't visiting you..."

"Then you should've buzzed her. Why didn't you just buzz her?"

Troy sighed. "Because... if I buzzed her she could send me away easier than if I knock. Plus if I knock I can just say I was leaving your place and in the area..."

Chad rolled his eyes. "Pathetic. Why don't you just call her? Why are you coming over?"

"Look, dude, I know you're trying to be all like, helpful and shit, but if I'm gonna do this, I have to do it my way. And maybe you think my way is a little unusual but at least I'm here."

Chad sighed. It was true – at least Troy was there. But if Troy was there because he was going to accuse her of being a bitch for not calling him back, then it wasn't exactly going to be in his best interests. He examined his friend – he was a little agitated, but not looking raging mad. He decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Okay. Fine. Just... don't blame me if it backfires."

"Never said I would. Now if you'll excuse me..."

Chad stepped aside, and Troy headed the few steps up to round the corner to the third floor hallway, pausing outside of her doorway. Chad watched from the stairwell, shook his head and rolled his eyes and called out a final, "Good luck," before disappearing back around the corner to head up one more flight to his own apartment.

Troy took a deep breath before knocking on the door. The minute that he knocked his face contorted into a wince, swearing under his breath, "Fuck fuck fuck what are you doing what are you doing fuck fuck fuck..."

His string of expletives was cut off when the door handle began to rattle and he stood up a little straighter, a hand quickly running through his hair in one final bout of preparation.

The door chain was still latched on and the door creaked open the few inches that it would allow. She peered through; he spotted a bright, surprised brown eye and her dark tresses, out and flowing over her shoulder.

"Um... hi it's Troy," he said a little awkwardly. "Can I uh... if you're busy I can leave..."

"Um, no it's okay," her uneasy voice returned. The door closed momentarily and he could hear the chain unlatching, the door swinging open a moment later.

She was dressed in a pair of dark grey yoga pants, a black tank top and a worse for wear grey sweatshirt with maroon Harvard lettering zipped up half way. Her hair was a little damp, out in a wild mass of untamed curls.

He could feel his body reacting.

"So um... hi," he said, the door now wide open.

Her arms folded over her chest, hugging herself. "What are you doing here?" she asked, caught off guard by his arrival. She felt a little self conscious – okay, she felt a _lot_ self conscious. She was aware however that if she asked for him to excuse her, it would be a little peculiar to emerge wearing make-up and a fresh change of cuter clothes given that it was late at night.

"Well... I uh... I was just in the neighbourhood, you know at..." he scratched the back of his neck and trailed off, sighed, and said simply, "You didn't call me back."

She raised her eyebrows. "You came over because I didn't call you back?"

"Well... um... not only that. I also um... see I thought I should return something..."

She watched in bewildered confusion as his hand dipped into the deep pocket of his sweatshirt, and yanked out a black strapless bra. Her eyes widened at the sight of the piece of lingerie.

"This is yours," he said, holding it out. "Errr... you uh... left it at my place. You know... back..."

"After we had sex?" she supplied, surprised at the confidence in her own tone. She was internally a shaking mess – not understanding the logic behind his visit.

He nodded. "Yeah, then, I didn't like, throw it out, but forgot about it and found it and so I thought I'd, you know, bring it back. Since it is yours."

Tentatively she accepted her bra from his outstretched hand. She wasn't sure what to do with the item, and decided upon placing it on the small table just by the door which housed her keys, sunglasses and a few other items.

"So... you came by late on a Friday night to return my bra?"

Suddenly, Troy was beginning to wish he had a time machine and could go back to that moment when Chad had attempted to make him think about the logic of coming over. He closed his eyes, muttered a 'fuck' under his breath, and looked at her.

"You didn't call me back," he repeated. "And I thought maybe that was because you didn't wanna call me back. So I didn't want to call you again – even though that's what like _everyone_ said I should just do. And I did just randomly find your bra again tonight but then I thought that maybe that would be like, a good excuse to have pretended I was coming over for so I could talk to you. And here I am. And I might just leave now so..."

He'd turned to turn to walk away, when her slender hand reached out, gently grabbing his arm and turning him back around.

"What happened to that guy who bragged of his 'dancing' abilities and ordered me an Orgasm?" she asked curiously. She was acutely aware that the guy she'd first met in Troy wasn't a real person – he was a mask. She'd been privy to conversation with the real Troy.

"Good question. I'd like to know that too. That guy isn't such a fucking mess."

She sighed, shaking her head. "You're not a mess, Troy." She paused, backtracking his statement. "You were asking people about me? About... whether you should call again?"

He grimaced. The moment his ramblings had made that confession he'd hoped she'd swallowed up that particular piece of information and he could attempt to retain the slightest sliver of his manhood.

"Uh... it may have come up," he confessed.

She couldn't hide the smile that broke out onto her face. She stepped back slightly. "Um, do you want to come in? Just... you know... to talk?" she felt the need to hastily clarify her intentions for inviting him into her home late on a Friday evening.

He nodded gratefully – this was more than a step ahead of the worst case scenario, being a slap across the face and marching orders to leave and never come back.

"Would you like a drink?" she offered.

"Um, just some water?" he said, almost questioningly.

He noticed that she'd had an Aquafina water dispenser installed by her fridge, she quickly grabbed a couple of glasses from the cupboard and poured him a glass. He noticed that she had music playing – an old album, Fuel. As she poured her own glass, she spoke softly, "Your number is unlisted."

He furrowed his brows. "Pardon?"

She stood upright, and turned around to face him. "You said that I didn't call you back. The reason is because you have your phone set to not display your number."

Troy blinked. He cast his mind back to earlier the evening before to the horrendous voice mail – and realised.

"I never left my number..." He smiled sheepishly. "Uh... fuck. I uh... I'm clearly not good with this whole, calling thing."

"I was going to call you back, for the record. I was going to give Taylor a call to get your number, or at least to get you a message of why I hadn't called back."

Troy was feeling beyond idiotic.

And yet simultaneously relieved.

She headed toward her couch, taking the lead and sitting in her arm chair. Troy decided upon sitting on the couch, on the left hand side closest to her. There was a coffee table where they each placed their glasses of water.

"I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. I was going to but uh... you know... I got busy," he explained a little lamely.

She didn't need an explanation. "It's okay. I won't lie I was a bit... I guess disappointed? That I didn't hear from you sooner." She rushed to clarify, "not disappointed in you! But just disappointed in general. Because I wanted to hear from you. God, who is the mess now?"

"So if I had left my number..."

"Truthfully I've been really swamped with work so I probably would've texted you saying I'd get in touch tonight or over the weekend." Gabriella gestured toward her dining table. Troy's eyes widened at the massive pile of textbooks and papers.

"But you would've gotten in touch? You wouldn't have written me off for taking like, a week to call you?"

"It wasn't a week, it was six days," she corrected him, before saying rather candidly, "Troy if I was going to write you off, I think it would've already happened. I'm... I'm happy that you called at all. Really happy. I do understand that was probably a big deal for you."

"I used the word neat."

She giggled, flushing. "I noticed."

"Did you judge me for it?"

She paused and said teasingly, "Maybe a little. But nowhere near as much as I judge you for turning up at my apartment tonight with my bra in your sweatshirt pocket."

"Not my smoothest move, I must admit."

"Maybe you've run out of moves with me?"

It was a challenging statement, a statement enough to incite the return of cocky Troy. "Beautiful, where you're concerned, I'll never run out of moves," he boasted.

There was the Troy that she'd first met. A Troy who had once with a graze of the arm and a murmur by her ear induced visions and thoughts and fantasies that she'd never anticipated experiencing in her life. He didn't quite have the same affect any longer – she much preferred the reality of who Troy was than the fantasy figure he exuded.

Her expression hardened, she sat forward in the arm chair and reached out, her soft hand squeezing his knee. "Maybe you don't need moves."

He cocked his head. "Why, because they've worked?"

She shook her head. "Because it's not the moves that I..." she took a deep breath, staring down at the grey socks which encased her feet. Her voice softened as she finished the sentence, a tint of blush to her cheeks, "It's not the moves that I like."

He swallowed. "You like me?" The statement wasn't cocky, it wasn't teasing. It was genuinely inquisitive. The question both terrified and excited him in equal measure.

"Come on Troy. The minute that I thought about giving you my number the first time... that was when I broke the rules. You had to know then that I liked you."

He had known – but he hadn't been sure what it was that she liked; how it could be that she could actually be attracted to who he really was. "You know I wouldn't have called you, if I'd let you give me your number." In some ways, it was a test. He needed to remind her of who he had been.

Gabriella nodded. "I do know."

"And... if I'd taken your number and then not called you; and then you'd walked into Starbucks that afternoon and seen me there at the counter..."

She finished the sentence for him. "I would've walked away. I would've turned in the opposite direction and gotten as far away as I could as quickly as I could."

"And we wouldn't be here now." That wasn't a reality that Troy relished in facing. He reached forward, picking up his water glass. She mimicked his action, equally needing a moment to allow the thought to resonate.

In the spirit of his night of honesty, in yet another moment of candid verbal diarrhoea, Troy found himself blurting out, "I like you too." He cleared his throat, setting down the water glass, scratching the back of his head, and then looking up to stare directly at her. She was watching him with a slightly wide eyed expression. He bit his lip. "I know it's because of me that this..." he motioned back and forth between them with this hand. "... is kind of, well, fucked up. So... I guess I just hope you know that I like you. I... I more than like you. And so that's why I called... I called because I wanna get to know you more. Hang out."

"When?" she asked, voice soft.

Troy faltered. "Um... well..." he scratched the back of his head, and verbally went through his schedule out loud. "I'm working tomorrow night... and Sunday afternoon through til evening..."

"So you're free in the morning?"

"Uh, yeah... not too early, preferably," he said with a smile.

"Wanna come for a run?"

Troy chuckled lightly. "Are you for real?"

"You're pretty buff. You obviously work out. Or is the gym more your thing?"

"Me? Afford a gym membership?" he said disbelievingly. "No, I do go for a run, usually a few times a week."

"I figured. And I've been thinking about like, you know, trying to get fit..."

"You're already pretty fit from what I've seen," Troy said, unable to avert the once over with his eyes observing her trim frame.

"I have good metabolism," she said with a slight blush. "I used to go to the gym back in Boston and do some of those group fitness classes but here I was thinking about trying to get into the habit of jogging. Spend some time up in that big patch of grass I hear is uptown from here."

He laughed. "The one with all the pretzel and hotdog stands around it?"

She grinned. "That's the one."

His mind was filled with images of Gabriella's body in gym clothes, a layer of sweat over her sun-kissed, soft skin; and it took approximately two seconds to come to a conclusion.

"Sounds great. I haven't been up to Central Park in a while. Um... we'll have to get one of the uptown lines from West 4th Street," Troy mused. "I can come by and meet you..."

Gabriella interrupted. "Troy, you live like a block away from that subway line and I live in the other direction. I'll come by your place on my way."

"Um... but shouldn't I pick you up?"

"We're hanging out Troy, going for a run. It's not..." she trailed off. The end of the sentence, of course, was going to be 'a date'. However she halted the sentence, a little wary of putting him off. He, after all, had been the one to declare that he'd wanted them to 'hang out.' He hadn't said that he wanted to take her out for a night of dinner, drinks, dancing and whatever may follow.

He shifted on the couch. He'd known what she was going to say – and he knew exactly why she had avoided saying it. A part of him wanted to suggest that maybe it was a date – they'd been anything but conventional so far and there was no rule which dictated that a first date couldn't be an arrangement to go jogging in Central Park. But instead, he cleared his throat. "Um, so it's..." he glanced around, eyes glimpsing a clock on the wall. "Shit, it's pretty late now. Wanna come by around 8:30, 9ish?"

She nodded. "Sure. That sounds great." She cleared her throat, and asked a little hesitantly. "Do you want me to text you when I'm on my way?"

He paused – about to respond, but then realised the likely cause of the hesitation in her voice. "Are you fishing for my phone number?"

She giggled, blushing slightly. "Busted."

He held his hand out, indicating that she hand over her cell phone. She jumped up, her cell phone on the kitchen counter, and brought it over to him. He programmed his number in efficiently and then handed the cell phone back to her. Just to test, she pressed the dial button and waited – a few seconds later, the chorus of _I Get Off _by Halestorm singing from his cell phone. She rolled her eyes slightly but was more amused than offended – in fact it didn't surprise her much that Troy would have such a song as his ringtone.

"See. I gave you a real number."

"I'd hope so after taking six days to call me," she teased.

He frowned slightly – she'd been joking, but it wasn't a joke he was quite comfortable with hearing. "I really am sorry about that..."

She raised her hand, silencing him, realising that the joke might've been premature. "Troy. I said it's fine – it's fine. Really."

Troy studied her for a moment, content to let the matter go for now but filing it away into his mind as something to beware of in the future – one of those things where a woman says she's fine with it, but at any moment it can be recalled and used as ammunition in a relevant moment.

He cleared his throat. "Well uh... I guess I'd better go."

She nodded – disappointed at the idea of him leaving but accepting of the reality. They both stood up, heading over to the doorway.

"So around 8:30, 9ish, and you'll let me know when you're on the way?" Troy said as he opened her door, and then turned back around to face her.

She nodded, confirming the logistics they'd agreed upon. Grazing his arm affectionately as she spoke, she said graciously, "Thank you for calling, and for coming over, and for... um... being honest with me. I do understand that this is kind of out of your comfort zone. And it's not exactly within mine either. So, I'm happy that we can muddle through this... together."

"Muddling sounds good," Troy agreed.

She then added with a teasing glint, "Oh, and thank you for returning my bra."

"Maybe I'll seize possession of it again one day?" he smirked, insinuating that an opportunity would arise where she could conceivably leave it behind again.

She blushed – it wasn't an offensive scenario to her. His words had been innuendo filled, with a dash of nervous hope. In fact in that moment with the shine of his penetrating blue gaze, the clump of chestnut brown hair which was incessantly falling across his forehead, and his hands shoved deep into his pockets in a posture of nervous energy – she'd never felt less offended and never felt more appeased by the prospect.

"One day," she agreed. "Maybe."

A lingering gaze was exchanged. A gaze of longing, a gaze of want. Gabriella took a breath, trying to get a hold of herself – and a hold of her libido.

"Good night, Troy," she said softly, and leaned over with the intent of pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

With the intent.

She'd taken a step closer toward him, the proximity of his body to her own alone enough to send a shiver through her body. Her eyes fluttered closed, the kiss indeed at first was chaste but it was lingering. She shuddered slightly, hearing Troy's sharp intake of breath. They remained standing still, lips united but barely moving, merely trembling as they softly, slowly pressed together and then separated. His hands instinctively grasped her waist, simultaneously both members to the union resuming the kiss. It was slow, gentle, cautious. In ways it reminded Gabriella of her first kiss with Bobby Willis when she was sixteen, minus the washing machine spin cycle technique. However as familiarity was regained, as the moment continued, libidos took charge and the heat was turned on. One of her hands clutched at his shoulder, the other was planted on his pecs, splayed palm and then raking down his front. Even through his sweatshirt and t-shirt he was more than affected by her touch, the hands on her waist cautiously slipping just beneath the hem of her sweatshirt and tank, not in a sexual move but rather with the mere desire to feel more skin on skin contact.

There was a part of her – the part that was burning with desire in her lower abdomen – that wanted to grab onto the lapels of his sweatshirt and yank him back into her apartment and slam the door behind him. It was only about nine hours until they'd agreed to meet, after all, and so it was only practical that he simply spend the night in her company rather than go all the way home so late at night. But then there was the most logical part of her – the logical part which happened to intercept with her emotions. The part which knew that the worst thing that she could do would be to confuse her newfound burgeoning whatever the hell she had with Troy with sex. The simple need that raged within to feel him, have him, take him – it didn't understand the complexities that came with simply taking what she desired.

The logical part of her temporarily won out, pulling back, hands clenched on his upper arms, foreheads pressed together, his heavy breath tickling against her face.

"You should go," she murmured. She shivered slightly at the sensation of his hand rubbing small circles on the small of her back beneath her tank top.

"I should," he agreed, but neither one made any move to separate the distance between them. It was Troy whose lips sought hers, however it was Gabriella who didn't make any effort to pull away. In fact it was she whose strength was waning, a strength she'd been resolute about just moments earlier. He had the ability with the intoxicating touch of his lips, the feel of his skin, the sensation of his hands on her body – to send all logical thought out the door. She was taking the slightest of steps back into the apartment, her hands which held tightly to his ripped frame pulling him back with her. The momentum struck a reaction within him – a reaction he knew that his straining erection would not forgive him for, but the gentleman his mama had raised him to be would be proud of.

He abruptly pulled away.

"I have to go," he murmured. "I am going to go. Or... this..."

"You don't have to go..." she stupidly found herself saying, as the words came out of her mouth a part of her knew she'd regret them.

He groaned and with supreme willpower, he stepped away, his hand slipping out from under her tank top, running up her side, down her arm, only his hand holding onto hers with a good distance apart. He squeezed her hand. She took a breath, composing herself, her free hand running through her hair and tucking a strand behind her ear.

"Make it closer to 8:30 than 9," he murmured.

"Even though you'll forfeit a half hours sleep?"

"Don't care."

With a final wink, he begrudgingly dropped her hand and turned to walk away. She watched his every movement, unable to avoid a gratuitous stare of his backside as he walked. He turned around, a final grin in her direction just before he disappeared around the corner. Then, and only then, did Gabriella close the door behind her, unable to wipe the broad smile from her face. She clutched her BlackBerry to her chest happily. All of his ridiculous behaviour beside, at the heart of it all, she knew, was goodness. She didn't know what lay ahead of them, what a non-date jogging at Central Park could lead to.

She knew one thing; and that one thing was that Troy liked her. Finally, she believed that.

Twenty minutes later, she'd changed into her pale blue flannel pyjamas covered in black and white cows, brushed her teeth and was in bed with the main light off, her reading lamp on and had _The Lucky One_ by Nicholas Sparks open in front of her. Her BlackBerry began to vibrate against the bedside table – she'd switched it onto silent for bedtime – and she frowned, reaching out to pick it up.

She smiled at the sight of the text message sender, and the smile on her face widened further at the text which he had sent.

_last friday i made the mistake of not texting u straight away. not making that mistake again. good nite beautiful xo_

xxx

"_**If you ask the question..."**_

_**Nickelback 'S.E.X.'**_


	9. Nine

**THE SIMPLE NEED**

**xxx**

_AN: Better late than never... right?_

**xxx**

**NINE**

"Excuse me! I'm so sorry, I'm so late! Excuse me!"

It was Friday night and Gabriella was rushing through the streets high tailing her way from her office at NYU to Sullivan Street. The show had pretty much been the sole reason for her making it through her most hectic work week to date alive, and she was running ridiculously late, to the point of darting through the streets, weaving through people who were in her way. Initially, she'd have plans to meet Taylor and the others about an hour before the gig to grab some food, but she'd wound up texting them that she couldn't make dinner but would be there for the show. She was pushing it to make it on time even for the start of the show, and found her brisk walk becoming a half jog.

She burst into the Lion's Den bar, the room already filled with patrons. She was grateful to see that the band hadn't come on yet, and with a glance at her watch she had less than ten minutes to spare.

"Yo, Gabriella!"

Gabriella looked up, spotting Chad waving and her friends standing around one of the tall tables in their usual area. She grinned and made her way over.

"I was so worried I wouldn't make it!" she exclaimed, and promptly dropped her shoulder bag onto the floor with a thud.

"What's in that thing, bricks?" Chad asked.

Gabriella exchanged hugs and kisses on the cheek with Taylor, Sharpay, Zeke and Chad before responding to the question.

"Papers. I'm only new to this teaching thing, but I can already tell you that this is the worst time of year," she groaned. "I was all set to leave with plenty of time to get here and I had one of the other professors pull me in for a consultation, they needed a second opinion about a paper they were marking."

"We got you a drink," Taylor said, pushing across a glass of vodka and soda with lemon, as per the text from Gabriella.

"Thank you," Gabriella said gratefully.

"Don't worry, Troy hasn't even arrived yet, they can't exactly go on without him!" Zeke pointed out.

"Andy just came out and told us that Troy was running late," Sharpay explained.

"He was working today, he would've only just finished," Gabriella said. "One of the casuals called in sick so he picked up overtime."

"How do you know that?" Sharpay asked, cocking her head.

"Yeah," Taylor chimed in. "Did you guys finally talk?! If so, why didn't you tell me?"

Gabriella was a little surprised – she'd had such a hectic week that she genuinely hadn't had the opportunity to hang out with Taylor. They'd made plans earlier in the week to catch up on Friday night in a brief text message conversation, and that was the extent of their interactions for the whole week, not even bumping into one another in the building. The last that any of the foursome had spoken to her in detail, she had been running out of that very same bar two weeks ago, resisting Troy's advances. They knew from Troy that he had caught up to her in the street, and that as of last Friday, he'd been agonising about why she hadn't returned his phone call.

Sometimes, a week can change everything.

Gabriella glanced at Chad – whose mouth twitched slightly. She knew in that moment that Troy had spoken to Chad. The glance between them was not unnoticed, and Taylor gasped.

"You knew something, and you didn't tell me?" Taylor asked, thwacking her husband on the arm.

"No wonder you were so eager to come tonight. When Taylor told me that you were the one who said you'd see us all here, I was so surprised, I thought we'd have to drag you kicking and screaming!" Sharpay observed. "I wouldn't blame you for giving up on Troy, with him pulling that stunt and not calling you in a week."

Before Gabriella could even contemplate what she could say in response, how she could begin to explain, she felt a pair of hands grabbing her sides from behind, and she squealed slightly before realising Troy was present.

"Hey guys!" he exclaimed brightly, greeting all of them but only really interested in talking to Gabriella. "I'm sooooo late but wanted to say hi. Do I look rock enough?"

Gabriella gave him a once over. He'd come straight from work so his look was a little tidier than his usual Friday night apparel. He was wearing a blue plaid button up shirt, a nicer pair of jeans and clean white Converse shoes.

"It'll do," Gabriella responded.

Troy gasped, and mimed a heart being stabbed in his heart. "It'll do? You instill me with such confidence, babe."

"You didn't ask me if you looked hot, you asked if you looked 'rock'," she said flirtatiously.

"Oh, so I look hot?"

"I like when you wear blue," she replied with a blush.

He grinned. "You're adorable. Hey, you're not running away tonight? Are you actually giving yourself a whole night off?"

"I'll be here," she confirmed.

He smiled, genuinely pleased. "Awesome. Gotta go, I'll see you later." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before tearing away toward the backstage door.

Gabriella had a smile from ear to ear and turned back to her friends – to see all four of them staring at her. Chad had a knowing smile, Zeke had raised eyebrows, Sharpay and Taylor looked somewhat shocked.

"What the hell was that?" Sharpay exclaimed.

"You need to start talking," Taylor insisted.

Gabriella calmly picked up her drink and took a long sip, before responding coyly, "There's nothing to talk about."

"That was not _nothing_. You told me you were busy all week!" Taylor said.

"Busy doing Troy," Sharpay quipped.

Gabriella shook her head. "I have been busy with work, I wasn't lying. I've only seen him once since last weekend. I've had consultations and marking and..."

Taylor held up her hand, silencing Gabriella. "You just implied that firstly, you saw him last weekend; and secondly that in the midst of a busy week when you didn't have time for a coffee with someone who lives just up the stairs from you, you managed to have time to see him."

"We're friends."

Gabriella glanced sideways at Chad and Zeke. She was feeling a sudden compulsion to gush and reveal all, but felt a little uncomfortable gossiping in front of the guys. Chad took the hint.

"Zeke, let's get another round before the gig starts," Chad said, elbowing Zeke.

"But I want to know what's going on too!"

"I'll tell you, come on," Chad said, rolling his eyes.

Taylor gasped. "I knew you knew something!" she called after Chad.

"Look at her! She can't stop smiling!" Sharpay said, pointing at Gabriella.

"Spill," Taylor urged.

Gabriella sighed, a little reluctant but feeling that girly need to gush and gossip overtaking her.

"Okay... he came over to my place last Friday night. He'd tried to call me on Thursday and left me this really awkward message. But his number is unlisted and he forgot to leave his number. I was planning to it from you so I could get back to him but I'd been so swamped and just hadn't done it yet. He turned up at my place kind of in this... really adorable fluster about it," she grinned, thinking back to the bra he'd been clutching and the way he'd stumbled over his words.

"We told him to call you again, not to turn up at your apartment!" Sharpay exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

Gabriella smiled and continued. "Well, this is Troy. He didn't listen. Anyway, we talked a bit, and we agreed that we would spend some time getting to know each other. We hung out on Saturday morning and had lunch, then he had to go to work and I visited him at work later that night since I hadn't been there before. I got to hear all about his job – did you guys know he practically manages the place? Seriously, the so called owner-manager should just promote him and pay him properly!"

"We've been saying that for ages," Taylor agreed.

"Anyway, we've just kept in touch throughout the week, texting a lot, and he met me at Saigon Market right near NYU for lunch one day. I was slammed with work and had to dash away after but he insisted on coming even though we only had like, 45 minutes."

"No sex?" Sharpay asked. "No late night booty calls?"

"No."

"Kissing?"

Gabriella blushed. "A little."

"I cannot believe it! You've actually succeeded in taming Troy Bolton," Taylor said, somewhat in awe.

"Taming?"

"Honey, you just said that Troy came to meet you somewhere that was convenient for you for lunch. For a quick lunch that would have no possibility of ending in sex."

"We're doing our best to take it slow and get to know each other."

"Trying your best to take it slow?" Sharpay asked, raising her eyebrows.

Gabriella nodded and exhaled. "That's possibly the hardest part."

"Is he putting on the moves?" Taylor asked with furrowed eyebrows. "Because... that isn't exactly the kind of thing that goes with getting to know each other."

"The opposite. If it was up to me and my willpower alone, it would've happened again. But twice this week, that moment was there when it could've gone further, and he's the one that stopped it."

"_He_ stopped it?!" Taylor and Sharpay asked simultaneously.

"I know right. Crazy."

"Sharpay, I think Troy is growing up," Taylor said with a sigh, like a mother simultaneously proud and sad about a son growing up.

"I think so," Sharpay agreed.

"I'm honestly trying to not think about it, I just want to take it each day as it comes. We're in an good place, he actually talks to me, we have amazing chemistry. I need to take it slow and not get too involved too quickly, and he needs to take it slow to not get scared away. I'm just... I believe him when he says he has feelings for me. And I think he's very genuine in wanting to try to work through his issues. I think. I hope."

"He is."

Gabriella whirled around, and saw that Chad and Zeke had returned with another round of drinks for their group. It was Chad who had spoken, overhearing the tail end of the conversation.

"Yeah?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows.

He nodded, and gave Gabriella a half hug. "You won't get anything more out of me."

"That's all I need."

Two words from Chad meant the world to Gabriella – she couldn't deny that there was a tiny part of her that questioned if Troy could truly have done such a turn. She didn't know Chad all that well - she'd only known him for a few months. But she did trust him, and she knew that Chad was possibly the only person in the world who truly knew Troy, the real Troy. Chad vouching for Troy's sincerity was worth gold.

"Speaking of Troy, why the hell hasn't the band come on?" Zeke questioned, glancing around. People were getting impatient, with the guys now about ten minutes overdue to start their performance. "I know Bolton was late, but they've had time, surely? All the equipment is set up, they already did the sound check without him."

Gabriella glanced toward the stage, with no sign of any of the four guys appearing. She pulled her Blackberry out from her pocket, and quickly sent a text to Troy.

_Get your cute butt on stage or there will be a riot out here! ;-)_

**1 min. Shit has hit the fan.**

Gabriella stared at the text she'd received back with confusion, and was about to read it out to her friends, when Steve appeared on stage, sliding into his spot behind the drums. Some shrieks sounded from the fans at the front and he waved. Troy and Andy appeared next. There was no doubt that Troy was appearing somewhat morose. He picked up the guitar that had already been hooked up, ignoring the shrieks and calls from the crowd as he proceeded to play a few notes, checking the sound and tuning of the instrument. Andy did the same with both his bass and the keyboard. Finally Drew appeared, grinning and waving to the crowd.

He spoke into the microphone, "Sorry for the delay guys, we uh... had some... technical difficulties," he spoke into the microphone.

He glanced around, getting the okay nod from the boys, and the band launched into the first track of the night, _Sex on Fire _by Kings of Leon. It was a solid performance, but Gabriella couldn't help but notice a certain lack of spark in Troy's eyes compared to the times she'd seen him perform before.

When the track finished, instead of launching straight into their second song for the night, Drew began to speak into the microphone again.

"Welcome to the Lion's Den, everyone!" His greeting was met with cheers. "I uh... before we continue, I just wanted to take a minute to make a quick announcement. The reason for our delayed start tonight was because about fifteen minutes ago I told the boys some news. My beautiful partner Kara and I are expecting our first baby."

A smatter of cheers and applause sounded. Drew grinned, waving his hand in thanks. "Thank you, thank you. We've just passed the 13 week mark and all the tests are coming back beautifully. Obviously we've known for a little while, and in this time we've had some discussions. I've had a job opportunity arise back in my home town of New Orleans, where both Kara and I are from, and we are moving back there."

He added one last line, a little redundant, but making the point clear.

"Tonight will be my last night performing with the boys."

Gasps and cries sounded from the fans. Gabriella's jaw dropped, she wanted to look at her friends but she couldn't tear her eyes away from Troy. His text and his expression now made sense.

"So tonight I want to have the best gig ever! You guys have been the best fans and supporters ever, and I wanna go out with a bang."

With that, the band continued with the rest of the first half of the set, launching into tracks from a series of bands, including The Killers, Theory of a Deadman, Puddle of Mudd and Hinder. Drew was rocking out, at the height of energy, channeling his inner rockstar. Troy loosened up after a few tracks, and there was no doubt that Drew was doing his best to bring Troy out of his shell, taking the microphone and going over to play off of Troy, doing air guitar beside him, cracking a smile from the brooding guitarist.

When the intermission came, there was an intensity in the air, people around them exclaiming about how the band had better not completely break up.

"Wow!" Zeke was the first one to exclaim. "Unbelievable. I'm happy for him and Kara though, he seemed pretty stoked."

"Total 'oops' baby though. Like how Kara has been promoted from 'girlfriend' to 'partner'," Chad observed.

"Don't say that," Taylor chided.

"It all makes sense now," Gabriella sighed. She showed them the text she'd received from Troy just a minute before the show had begun.

"Why is it such a bad thing?" Sharpay asked. "Troy's the one who has wanted to take their music more seriously for a while, Andy too. Drew's the one who has been holding them back."

"Fair point," Chad said with a shrug.

"I thought Steve was also a bit wary about it becoming anything serious?" Gabriella asked.

"I think so, from what Troy says anyway," Taylor said.

"Okay well, Troy and Andy do their own thing," Sharpay shrugged. "What's the point in him dedicating all this time into this dumb covers band."

"Don't call them dumb, sweetie!" Zeke immediately said.

"You all think it, I know you do. The band is great, they're talented. But they're not going anywhere. They don't record. I think I've heard like, three original songs in the last year, which they hardly ever play. They don't even put tracks on YouTube."

"Sharpay, that's a bit harsh," Chad said.

"Seriously, you don't agree with me?"

Gabriella shifted uncomfortably. "I do," she admitted. "I mean... I think it's a waste of talent. But, I also think that Troy needed to be able to make the decision for himself, not for it to be some default that he gets forced into."

"Maybe he just needs a push in the right direction," Taylor mused, seeing both Sharpay and Gabriella's points.

**xxx**

Backstage, the guys had spent most of their 20 minute break behind the scenes. The club manager, Larry, had come out the back for a quick chat, with Andy quickly piping up and assuring him that they'd go on next week without Drew, and that they would discuss internally beyond that what their plans were. Drew had then headed to check in on Kara and grab them some more water bottles. Troy retreated to a corner, sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up and his head back against the wall. He was toying with his water bottle and had his earbuds in. Gabriella had texted him, and he felt bad but he ignored her. He wasn't in the space to be dealing with anyone. Steve and Andy sitting on the lounge talking, with Andy giving a glance in his direction. He had no doubt that Andy was already working his magic.

Drew's announcement in some ways had been a bombshell revelation; in others it wasn't at all surprising. The truth was that it had only been a matter of time before either Steve or Drew were doing to have a reason to want to leave the band. He and Andy had talked in the abstract about the idea of doing their own thing, focusing on originals and acoustics, but Troy wasn't quite ready to transfer an abstract concept that more often than not came after a few too many drunks or while puffing on a smoke, and not the kind you could buy in a pretty box.

Troy was doing his best to get through the show. The guys had all agreed that they'd focus on the gig and discuss among themselves how they would deal with it later, but it was just like Andy to be thinking a million miles ahead. Troy was happy to remain stagnant – all that mattered was that they had another half a set list to get through, and Troy wanted to get through that, no distractions.

Drew returned and they reconvened, confirming the plans for the last group of songs for the night.

They continued with the second half of the set list, Troy's expression remaining reasonably neutral. He could feel that he wasn't playing up to his usual self quite as much, he wasn't interacting with the crowd. He was focused fairly solely on the music. It was almost as though he felt a disconnect – the audience wasn't there, it was just the four of them in Andy's garage. They performed tracks from Daughtry, Creed, Default and 3 Doors Down.

They had just one song remaining for the night, and Troy remained back as Drew seized the microphone for one final farewell speech.

"Thanks guys for being so fucking amazing tonight," he declared into the microphone. "Thank you for all of your support over the last couple of years. These boys behind me are so talented, Andy has more talent in his fucking pinky finger than I have in my whole body, and I know you're all a fan of Mr. Brooding Guitarist Troy himself."

Troy could've killed Drew in that moment. He was aware of his popularity, it was a popularity he'd used to his advantage many a time in the past, but he wasn't used to being on stage in the spotlight and having it pointed out so bluntly. There were shrieks and cheers, mostly from the women of the crowd, and Troy couldn't help but smile, and gave a quick wave in acknowledgement of their support.

"I want everyone to make sure that you've hit 'like' on our Facebook page – you'll find us under The Band Formerly Known As Little Black Book, and you can find links to us from The Lion's Den page as well. Make sure you go on and show your support for the boys as they figure out their new direction. I know you all wanna hear one of these guys step up to lead vocals," he added, his head cocking back in Troy's direction. "Which will be happening here next Friday night, so make sure you come back here, same time same place next week."

Troy resisted the urge to roll his eyes or throw his pick immaturely at Drew for placing the pressure on him. It wasn't the time, not in front of the crowd, but he knew they'd have words later on.

"Leave your comments, show your support, and continue to love music. For our last track, and my last track with these boys, I bring you the first song that we ever performed together, way back two years ago, where all this madness began."

They launched into one of their most frequently played songs, a song that never failed to be a crowd favourite – _Figured You Out_ by Nickelback. It was a song with a lot of memories for Troy, both good and bad, and he found himself being transported by the lyric and the music, not caring about the ramifications of Drew's decision or what was going to happen, and instead focusing on having fun and rocking out to what was a band and a crowd favourite.

When the song concluded, the crowd cheered louder than before, a chant of "Drew, Drew, Drew" being started by a couple of the college guys. Troy was pretty sure he was a glisten of a tear in his friend and bandmate's eye as he ran along the front of the stage, touching hands with the crowd.

"Thanks guys," he spoke into the microphone.

While the crowd was still cheering, Andy pulled the microphone in front of him out of the socket, and stepped out from behind his keyboard.

"How would you guys like to hear one last track?" Andy asked, his question being met with cheers from the audience. "Could I get a chair down front and centre for Drew? And I also need a stool on stage."

Troy watched on, somewhat flummoxed. He glanced wildly back at Steve, who merely gave him a grin and darted off side stage, leading Troy to believe that Steve knew what was going on. He then looked at Drew, who appeared as confused as he did. Quickly, audience members assisted, the chair in place and a stool being placed upon stage. Andy moved the stool to the centre of the stage, and moved a microphone stand.

"Andy must be planning a solo cover of the new Lady Gaga track," Troy spoke into the microphone, a panic in his eyes as he had a sinking feeling in his stomach, but trying to go with the moment and not look like a complete fool.

The audience laughed and whistled. "Not exactly. T-Dawg, your throne." Andy gestured to the stool, where Troy perched warily. A moment later, Steve returned, handing him the acoustic. "Get that baby ready to go while I vamp."

Andy's tone was somewhat gleeful – he derived a pleasure from forcing Troy out from behind his back-up singer guise and out into the spotlight. Troy trusted Andy, but at the same time, he knew that it was just like Andy to push him when he wasn't ready to be pushed. He could remember a time about six months ago when they'd been messing around with _Use Somebody_ in rehearsal with him doing lead vocals, a la Ryan Peake from Nickelback. Andy had made the suggestion that they do the rendition – when they were on stage in the middle of a set. The crowd had been cheering, Troy couldn't exactly refuse. He was in that exact position again. He felt on edge and vulnerable and he had no idea what Andy was doing. All he had within his control was to follow instruction and make sure the instrument was ready to go, and so as Andy continued to speak into the microphone, Troy plucked and strummed the acoustic guitar.

"Drew, we've been playing together for a while now, we've jammed, we've rehearsed, we've yelled, we've partied. Troy and I have been jamming a bit lately, and this is one of the covers we've been working on for the last few months on and off. It's a bit different to what you guys usually hear from us up here, but it seems right for right now. Drew, my friend, this is for you. We wish you and Kara all the love in the world, and we hope that you've had the time of your life."

With one pointed look at Troy, he knew what track they were going to perform. He had to concede it was an apt choice for the circumstances. He was confident that they could perform it without looking like fools, but it wasn't something that Troy was accustomed to, not at The Lion's Den. He didn't sit at the front with everyone staring at him. He liked blending into the background, being that mysterious guy. He'd spent his high school years in the spotlight, and the pressure that came with it had been intense.

What also occurred to him in blinding clarity was that the reason they'd been working on the song was because he'd felt inspired after seeing Gabriella, wrapped up in his bed sheet back in February. Troy looked out into the audience, seeking her out. He felt in that moment a series of confrontation, but he knew he had no choice. He could run away and look like a fool, or he could suck it up, take a breath, and perform.

And so he did.

The song had been stuck with him since the day he'd heard Gabriella singing to it in his apartment, wrapped up in his sheet and strumming his guitar. He'd been strumming the chords on his guitar one day in Andy's garage and suddenly they found themselves working on perfecting the track. It was the kind of track they could do perfectly with the two of them – Troy doing vocals and guitar, and Andy on keyboard. Troy pushed aside insecurities about what Gabriella would think, and instead focused on the melody, the lyric and the moment – thanking a friend for all that they'd been through.

_It's like a turning point, a fork stuck in the road..._

The Green Day song was one of those universally loved songs, the kind of track which if you covered and destroyed you could have things thrown at you on stage. However to Troy's surprise, no flying objects came, instead as he looked out in front of him, he saw people standing arm in arm, swaying from side to side. Kara had come up to the front with Drew and he'd pulled her down into his lap, the two in an embrace as Troy song and strummed, and Andy skilfully accompanied with the keys. It was one of those surreal moments where Troy felt a connection to the song, to the lyric, to the moment, and to his audience.

When the final notes of the song had been played, he was in utter disbelief at the cheers and whistles from the crowd. It was a feeling that he could get used to.

**xxx**

After the guys had left the stage area, they proceeded with the long time ritual of storing their equipment in Andy's van. Steve insisted that Drew should go out and see Kara, and look at trying to get them a booth so they could all have drinks, one last time as a group, which left the three of them.

"Listen... we're gonna go out there, have a drink with Drew and celebrate the good times," Steve said. "Then you two need to do some serious talking."

Troy exhaled, but didn't say anything.

"You know I love music and I love playing with you guys. I'm happy to keep doing it as long as you want to. But... you guys should talk seriously. This could be your chance to do something really cool with your music. You know I'm not into being serious, but if you guys are, then I'll support that, and I won't have any hard feelings about going our separate ways. If you want to work your way into being serious, then I'm happy to support you, change up our set list. Whatever works."

Andy held out his hand, shaking Steve's heartily. "We will talk... well, I'll talk, and try to make T listen," he added wryly.

"I'm right here," Troy said with a roll of the eyes.

"Let me know how you want to arrange rehearsals for next week, I'm owed some time off from doing overtime this last month so I can probably get off work early if we need extra rehearsal time."

Steve clapped Troy on the back, before heading back inside, which left Troy and Andy standing by the back of the van.

"He's right you know, we are gonna have to think this through," Andy said quietly.

Troy sighed. "I knew you'd do this."

"Proves how well we get along."

"Proves how fucking annoying you are."

Andy sighed. "I don't want you or I to be one of those guys who gets to the age of 35 and is still 'trying to make it' and is auditioning for the X-Factor and America's Got Talent."

Troy snorted. "Agreed."

"We need to do this _now. _You can't have it both ways. If we want to take this seriously, this is the only way it is going to work. I think we owe it to ourselves to at least try, see if its something that has potential."

Troy was silent. The argument that resonated most with him was at least giving it a try – he believed wholeheartedly in the notion of not wanting to live with regrets. Ultimately it was what had driven him to get his head out of his ass and give into his feelings for Gabriella. It was what had led him to New York City and music in the first place.

"Do you want to get paid to make music?" Andy pressed on.

"Yes."

"Do you want to create art?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to play your music for thousands of screaming fans?"

"Yes."

"Do you wanna hear our music on the radio?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to earn enough money to support a family?"

"Eeeyyy, way too fast," Troy warned.

Andy smirked. "I'll ask you again in six months."

Troy sighed. "Can we focus on next week's gig and go from there?" he asked. "Maybe... maybe throw in some more acoustic tracks, make it more, you know, us? We're gonna have to, anyway, if I'm supposed to front."

"You're not protesting that me and Steve decided for you that you'll be fronting?"

"We don't really have much choice. I mean, you could do it..."

Andy snorted. He had solid vocals, he was fine for back-up and harmonising, but of the two of them, there was absolutely not a sliver of doubt that it was Troy who belonged out in centre stage.

"How about you come to mine and crash tonight? We can talk about it some more, get up early, jam, work on a set list and bring Steve in on Sunday?"

Troy agreed, and Andy slammed the door on the back of the van, locked up and the guys headed back in. Troy was accustomed to receiving a reception when heading back into the bar after a gig, but the response was just that little more intense than usual, more people coming up to him, complimenting, and in particular receiving a lot of positive response to the acoustic track he and Andy had performed with at the end.

"Look at that, people like us," Andy said lowly under his breath.

Troy rolled his eyes. "Let it go, dude, at least til we leave here."

Troy and Andy headed over to meet up with Troy's friends quickly.

"What's up guys?" Troy said, quickly greeting the group. He slid in easily beside Gabriella, flashing her a special smile.

"Dude! Big shit went down, huh?" Chad said, shaking his head.

"Yeah. Blindsided," Troy said, shaking his head.

"Who is this ravishing beauty that you have your arm around, Troy?" Andy asked, playing dumb.

Gabriella felt herself go a little flush, ducking her head.

Troy rolled his eyes, but then it occurred to him that he'd never actually had the opportunity to introduce Andy and Gabriella to one another. "Oh... you haven't met, have you? Gabriella, Andy, Andy, Gabriella."

"It's so lovely to meet you properly," Gabriella said, shaking his hand. "You're so talented, one minute on the keyboard then on the bass and goodness knows what else you can do."

Andy laughed. "I'm a man of many talents. It's fantastic to meet you too. I've heard so much about you. Put a face to the name," he said with a wink.

Gabriella couldn't help but feel even more embarrassed at the notion that Troy had spoken to Andy about her. However she was aware that when it came to Troy, it was a good sign – she rated being someone worthy of discussion with the people Troy trusted most. "All positive feedback, I hope?"

"We'll gossip one day," Andy responded with a grin.

"I'm so glad you guys came and I feel really bad that I didn't get to chat to you at all, and I'm actually gonna have to bail in a second. We're gonna go have a couple of drinks with Drew and Steve, sort of like a final farewell," Troy explained.

"Oh of course, you should," Taylor said, nodding with understanding.

"Maybe we can all try to get together during the week some time?" Chad suggested. "I know everything is hectic, but even a quick dinner, could be nice?"

"We'll check schedules and talk about it early next week," Sharpay responded. "But it sounds good. Apparently certain people here are being somewhat secretive." She gave a pointed look to Gabriella and Troy.

"I don't kiss and tell," Troy retorted, and then leaned down to murmur in Gabriella's ear. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" She nodded.

"I'll grab beers, meet us over by the booths," Andy said to Troy, before turning around to his friends. "Nice seeing you guys again, and lovely to meet you Gabriella."

"Likewise."

Troy led Gabriella away from the group, and she realised that he was leading her to the backstage area to escape the noise. She glanced around, immediately noticing that a couple of girls were watching somewhat enviously, but blocked them out and focused on Troy. He pulled out the key, unlocking the backstage door. The last time she'd been back there was one chilly February evening when he was pulling her through, both in a desperate frenzy to remove clothes as soon as possible. He pulled her over to the couch so they could both sit down.

"I um... I just wanted to talk to you quickly. I feel really bad, we kinda spent all week talking about how we'd hang out after the show. I don't want you to think I'm blowing you off."

"You also spent all week thinking it would be just like any other show, not a night where Drew would announce he's quitting the band," Gabriella pointed out.

Troy sighed. "Yeah. I really did."

"Are you okay about it? Really?" she asked softly, her hand squeezing his knee.

"I haven't processed yet," he admitted. "I uh... after we have a couple of drinks, I'm gonna go back with Andy and crash at his so we can get up early and start figuring out our set list for next week. He also wants to talk." Troy rolled his eyes.

"Well that's good... you should talk," Gabriella said carefully.

"Mmm," Troy didn't really want to continue the line of discussion. "Anyway... so you're cool? You're not gonna go and huff off and tell Taylor that this is over, when it hasn't even begun?"

Gabriella laughed. "No! I promise."

"Good, coz I'm gonna fuck up on my own without shit like this interfering with us."

"No interference."

"Excellent. Uh... so... what are you doing tomorrow night?"

Gabriella paused to contemplate, tapping her chin in a faux thinking position. "Let me see... oh, um, nothing."

"Come out with me tomorrow night." It was less of a question, and more of a demand.

"Where?"

Troy shrugged. "Not sure. A cozy restaurant with average food where the students and starving artists go," he said frankly.

Gabriella laughed. "Sounds perfect."

"Is that a yes?"

"A meal in a restaurant on a Saturday night? Sounds awfully like a real date to me, Rockstar."

"Do you want it to be a date?" he countered.

"Do you?" she shot back immediately.

"I asked first."

"You asked the question, I have the right to seek clarification on what you're actually asking me."

Troy paused, lips curving into a smile. He learned in to her, and murmured softly. "Yes. It's a date."

"Then the answer is yes."

**xxx**

_When you ask the question, it's always yes._


	10. Ten

**THE SIMPLE NEED**

**xxx**

_AN: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!_

**xxx**

**TEN**

On Saturday around lunch time, Troy found himself standing at the corner of Bedford and Grove, pressing the buzzer to Gabriella's apartment. They didn't have plans to meet up until later, and he'd planned to call her to confirm details. Instead, he found himself just coming over. He'd wanted to speak to Chad as well, so he hadn't really hesitated in coming over uninvited. The last week had made him concede to one thing, and that was that he wanted to be around her as often as possible.

However he felt himself feeling disappointed when all he heard back was silence. He buzzed again, just in case she was playing music or watching TV and hadn't heard the intercom. No response came, so he whipped out his cell phone and dialled her number. She answered after two and a half rings.

"_Hey!"_ her cheery voice came over the phone.

"Where are you?" Troy immediately asked.

"_At Chad and Taylor's, why?"_

"Oh." Troy hung up his cell phone, and then buzzed Chad and Taylor's apartment instead.

A moment later, Taylor's voice came over the speaker. _"Hello?"_

"Yo, it's me."

"_Oh hey, come on up!"_

The door buzzed and he pushed it open, bounding up the staircase taking two steps at a time the whole way up. He knew that Taylor would have left the door open, and turned the handle, finding Chad, Taylor and Gabriella sitting around the dining table.

"Sup guys," he greeted them. He could immediately smell coffee and spied mugs on the table. "You have coffee?"

"There's more in the pot. I must've had a sixth sense you'd be here to use our groceries at some point," Taylor teased.

Troy grinned. "You know me so well."

"What did you and Andy get up to?" Chad asked, as Troy made his way into Chad and Taylor's kitchen.

"Nothing crazy. We talked for a while, crashed, jammed a bit this morning. During intermission we had a super quick chat with the club manager who is usually around behind the scenes on Friday nights. Andy committed that we'll do the show this Friday with him, me and Steve, so we spent some time looking at a set list so I can go over it before we rehearse tomorrow."

As he spoke, Troy poured his cup of black coffee and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the bench and slid over to the couch. He then plopped down in the spare seat to Gabriella's left, and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. Taylor and Chad couldn't help but exchange amused looks.

"Any major changes?" Gabriella asked.

"A few. A bunch of songs just me and Andy have worked on without the others. Steve will pick it up though – for an accountant, he's a fucking good drummer." Troy wasn't inclined to talk about the set list, so he quickly changed the topic. "I'm so sorry I didn't get to talk to you guys after the show. I feel bad, since I'd told you we'd catch up." Troy was looking around at all of them but reaching across to squeeze Gabriella's hand which was resting on the table.

"It's okay, you came and explained it to us all, and you and I already talked about this!" Gabriella said, returning the squeeze.

"You didn't say much after the show. How do you feel about it all? Really?" Taylor asked.

Troy exhaled. "I mean... if our situations were reversed, I'd have done the exact same thing as Drew. I was frustrated that we literally found out ten minutes before we went on, but that was a little my fault for being late. But you know, he's doing the right thing. Obviously they didn't plan this but he seems genuinely happy about it, not like 'oh fuck, well now I have to focus on my career so I can look after a family' or whatever."

"Well that's good, that they're happy about it," Gabriella agreed.

Troy nodded. "Yeah, it is. I guess... I was more pissed about the way he told us. Like, he just said it pretty point blank and then he acted like it wasn't a big deal because his role isn't relevant. He's just like 'but I know you guys will be fine and that Troy can step up and you won't even know I'm gone.' That's such shit. I can't pull off lead in most of the tracks we've rehearsed. That's why me and Andy had to work on a set list, and we're gonna have to do some epic rehearsing to do this."

"Isn't this a good opportunity to like... be doing the kind of stuff that you want to be doing?" Taylor ventured.

Troy shrugged. "In theory, I guess. I just... I'm in such a spin about it all. Andy of course is going back on one of his rants about us taking our music to the next level."

"Maybe it's time you listen to Andy. He's a smart guy," Chad observed.

"One of his rants? Does he have these rants a lot?" Gabriella asked.

"Yeah, more so recently. I guess I just... the whole thing is fucking terrifying," Troy admitted. "I don't think I've got it to do that whole... lead man thing. I mean I'll step up next Friday because we're obligated to the club, they've looked after us and if we pull out, then they'll need to find another band to fill the set and we might never get the slot back. But I'm just... I'm not that guy who jumps around the stage and acts crazy."

"Why do you think you need to be? If you and Andy were to drive your direction, wouldn't you be doing softer stuff?" Gabriella asked. "And would Steve be involved?"

"Steve's the one that got Andy on this latest tirade. While we were packing up our gear, Steve basically told us that we should take it seriously. He's not keen on it, which I respect him for – the guy is an accountant, after all! This is just his alter ego having some fun. But he pretty much said that we're crazy if we don't take the opportunity. So then Andy was going on about it and... ugh. I just don't know."

"Dude, have you been on the band's Facebook page in the last say, twelve hours?" Chad asked.

Troy shook his head. "No, why?"

"Give me a second, I'll get the laptop." Chad stood up and headed into the bedroom, calling behind him as he walked away. "People must've been listening to Drew, they legit all went onto the page overnight. I took a look this morning, it's insane."

"What, all telling him that he can't quit?" Troy joked.

Chad returned with his laptop. It wasn't shut down completely, he'd just closed the screen, so all he did was quickly punch in his password and navigate straight to the Facebook page. "Someone in the audience made a video of the Green Day song – people fucking loved it. They put it on YouTube and then posted it on your band page. People are liking, commenting, sharing, getting their friends to watch. I mean, we're not talking billions, but the feedback is positive."

"It isn't like you haven't done lead vocals before. I've heard you guys do tracks where you'll do lead and Drew does back-up," Taylor pointed out.

Troy didn't respond, he was just glancing through the comments. He pulled the laptop a little closer so he could read through. He couldn't deny that it felt good seeing the positive feedback. "Must have been all the alcohol flowing in the bar," he commented, brushing it off.

"No, it wasn't," Gabriella said, shaking her head. "Troy, you and Andy were truly amazing last night."

"You have to say that," Troy sighed. "But thanks."

"Oh come on, you know they loved you, cut the act," Chad said, rolling his eyes. "And I know you loved it."

"It was fun, and that's great that people liked it but... there's a whole world between doing a cover that people like, and actually being able to write and sell music. Which is what Andy wants us to work toward, like, seriously."

"You're talking a lot about what Andy wants to do – what do you want to do?" Gabriella asked.

He sighed, and looked up at three of the people he trusted most, staring at him expectantly, waiting for a clear-cut answer. He rested his head against the table, before looking up again.

"Am I crazy in even thinking about this? And like... I need honesty here. I don't want you to be like those people who tell their family members, 'Yeah, you should totally audition for _Idol_!' and next thing you know they wind up on the bloopers reel."

"You couldn't have gotten through a music major if you belonged on the Idol bloopers reel," Taylor pointed our practically.

"Well firstly, you could, because most of my music major was theory," Troy pointed out. "And secondly, we studied shit like, the History of European Music. There wasn't a class like 'Do You Have An 'It' Factor' or 'Can You Make it' or 'How To Make A Living Earning Minimum Wage While You Perform At Functions and Bars.'"

"Why does this matter?" Chad asked.

"It matters because I don't want to do this if we're being unrealistic. You know, money aside, my life doesn't completely suck. I love that store, and I like performing covers. If we're being totally ridiculous in thinking we could do this, then maybe I should be getting business qualifications and applying for managerial jobs at big wig music stores."

"That's what you want to do? Climb the corporate ladder?" Gabriella intoned, somewhat dubiously.

"You are the one who said I need to get my priorities in order." Troy was having flashbacks to a conversation he'd had with Gabriella when she came by to visit him at work the previous Saturday night.

"I was talking about you spending your time randomly teaching lessons and DJing without any focus. I said nothing about going corporate."

"I don't know if I want to climb the corporate ladder either, but I can't keep living in New York City getting paid just slightly above bottom rung retail rages in a dead end job for the rest of my life. At some point, you know, I'd like to feel like I've achieved something worthwhile."

"For you, or for Jack?" Chad asked, referring to Troy's father.

"Both," Troy admitted. He sighed. "I notice none of you have answered me if I'm crazy."

"How would we know? In all the years that you've been dabbling at this, you've never really done any writing – none that we know about, anyway. Original songs come rarely, and they were with Drew performing lead," Chad pointed out.

"I know that Andy is kind of brilliant, and if there's anyone that you could do this with, then it would be him," Taylor added.

"And me? What about me?" Troy pressed.

"In two and a half minutes of an unpolished cover, you managed to have everyone in the palm of your hand last night," Gabriella said softly, squeezing his leg. "That counts, doesn't it?"

Troy shrugged. Truthfully, he felt a little hazy about the whole experience – it was like it hadn't happened, or he'd consumed a bottle of rum just prior to the gig.

"Enough about me.," he said, quickly changing the subject. "What are you guys up to? Did I crash a party? How come I wasn't invited?"

"No party, I was out of sugar and I came to borrow some," Gabriella laughed. "I need to go buy groceries today or I'll be eating take-out all next week."

"I need to buy groceries too," Troy put out there with a sly smile.

"You, buy groceries?" Taylor scoffed.

"Hey, I buy groceries! I can't _afford_ to eat take-out all the time," Troy shot back.

"Milk, coffee, carrots, chips and beer do not count as groceries," Chad laughed.

"I will have you know that I make a mean Mexican feast, thanks," Troy defended himself. "Gabriella, I now insist that we go shopping together, just so you can tell these two that I really do buy actual food sometimes."

She couldn't help but tease. "Here I was thinking that our first proper date would be somewhere a bit more romantic than Food Emporium."

"I can bring the romance anywhere you want it," he teased back.

"Gabriella, do you really want to do this? Grocery shopping is super domesticated, it tells you things about a person that you probably shouldn't know until at least the third date," Taylor teased. Troy shot Taylor a dirty look.

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "We haven't done anything conventional this whole time, why start now? We had sex, then he helped me furnish my apartment, now we'll go grocery shopping, and we'll then take the next big step of our first date tonight."

**xxx**

An hour later, Troy and Gabriella were together at Food Emporium. Whether planned or not, it was an interesting get to know you exercise, much like Taylor had teased. Gabriella was organised and methodical, and Troy just followed her around the store grabbing things that he saw that looked appealing. Gabriella had an organised shopping list, consisting of particular meals she could plan to cook – she didn't just toss pasta into her cart, she also had parmesan cheese, beef mince, herbs, pasta sauce and garlic bread on her list. She planned to make meals which she could cook in bulk and then freeze meals that she could eat when she was lazy, or take leftovers to work. It came with the territory of living alone. Troy was clearly a more spontaneous shopper – he knew he had no food, so he arrived at the grocery store and grabbed whatever he felt like. He had a pretty decent budget that week, even taking into account the new section of his budget being a 'Gabriella fund.' He was more of a food on the go kind of guy, wanting things that he could just grab and munch on. He tended to keep carrots, celery, crackers, dip, tuna, bread, lunch meat and roast chicken.

"Are you feeding an army or something?" Troy asked incredulously, staring down at Gabriella's cart.

She grinned. "Well, normally when I shop by myself I've only got me to carry things back. Today, I figure I've got a strong manly man to help me out and take some of my bags."

"Hey, this manly man has his own shit to lug back," he teased, though he only had a basket full of items. "You can take a..."

Troy trailed off, blinking, because just behind Gabriella stood a woman he hadn't seen in over two years.

"Take a what, huh?" Gabriella teased back, not realising that Troy had been distracted immediately, but then seeking the look on his face. She turned to follow his stare, seeing him facing off with a woman clutching onto a pram. She was pretty and slender, about their age with strawberry blonde hair.

"Hi Troy."

"Tiffany," his cool response came.

Troy hadn't seen her for over two years. The last time he'd seen her had been the day he'd dumped a box of her stuff that she'd left at his apartment at her door.

"What are you doing here?"

"Um, buying some groceries, we're..."

"I don't mean here in this grocery store, I mean here in Manhattan," he interrupted her. "Last I heard you were living upstate."

Gabriella was tempted to interject and introduce herself, but without knowing who this woman was, she could hear an animosity in Troy's tone, and was developing theories of her own as to who she may be.

She nodded. "Yeah, Brett and I moved when I found out I was pregnant. Didn't want to raise a kid in the city, you know? We're here for a wedding, do you remember Michelle and Tony? They're getting married tomorrow."

It was as though Troy had hardly noticed the baby in the pram, and suddenly he was staring down. He didn't know much about babies, but the kid didn't appear to be newborn.

"How old is he?" Troy asked, blinking.

"Um, eighteen months. His name is Sam." Troy felt bile in his throat, and couldn't even bring himself to ask the question. Tiffany evidently recognised the sudden panicked question in his eyes. "Don't worry, he's not yours. Brett made us do a DNA test. "

Troy managed a slight snort. "Nice."

"Well... there was overlap..." she trailed off.

"Look, Tiffany, I've got nothing to say to you. I'm just here getting some food. You've said hello, it's the obligatory thing to do. Let's skip the chit chat, because if you're doing this to make yourself feel better, don't sweat it. I've moved on. I'm okay."

She swallowed. "Okay."

"Okay."

"It was um... good to see you. You... you look good."

"Right."

"Take care."

Gabriella waited until Tiffany had walked in the other direction, out of earshot. She rested her hand on Troy's arm. "Hey," she said softly. "Are you okay?"

Troy nodded, avoiding direct eye contact with Gabriella. "Fine. Are you almost done?"

"Um, just need to grab a couple of items from the chiller," she said softly, a little hurt by his shortness.

The remainder of the shopping trip was fairly quiet, small talk about brands of milk and flavours of yoghurt, mostly initiated by Gabriella in an attempt to fill the stony air. He went through the checkout first, and then he picked up over half of her grocery bags, plus his own, and was halfway out the door before she'd even finished paying. She darted after him and made a conversational remark about the girl who had served them at the cash register.

They headed back down 6th avenue and Troy led them to use Christopher Street to cut across to 7th street. When they reached Sheridan Square. Gabriella hesitated. Troy's place was in one direction, hers in the other.

"Are you coming?" he said, glancing at her paused just behind him.

"Um, you don't have to carry it back to mine, it's in the wrong direction after all," she said quietly. "I can carry my things."

He rolled his eyes. "It's like three blocks. Come on."

She merely nodded, and they headed across Sheridan Square and down Grove Street, walking the final 200 feet in silence. When they reached her apartment and set the grocery bags down on the kitchen bench, Gabriella finally spoke.

"Normally things get awkward and quiet _after_ a date, not before."

Troy exhaled, closing his eyes and leaning forward on her kitchen bench. "I'm sorry, it's not your fault."

"You're thinking about that woman you were talking to at the grocery store."

"Yes."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"No. I'd rather pretend she doesn't exist, to be honest."

"But she does, and obviously her existence upsets you."

"That would be an understatement."

Gabriella was hesitant in pressing him, but her curiosity got the better of her. "She cheated on you."

"Yes."

"What a bitch."

Troy couldn't help but laugh. Gabriella wasn't trying to make him laugh, she was quite genuine in her statement. Nonetheless, he found her candour amusing.

"I haven't seen her since just a couple of days after I found out about the whole thing. It was just... really kinda confronting. I didn't know whether to go back after her and scream at her, or whether to cry, or how to react. So I chose to shut down. Pretty typical me."

"Troy... if you don't want to go out tonight..."

Gabriella was cut off by a quick reaction from Troy, who pounced, grabbing at her waist, his lips descending on hers. She was backed up roughly against her kitchen sink, her hip taking the brunt of the force. It was a welcome force, a force which came from a place of want, of need, of passion. Their kiss was short but intense, and when Troy pulled back, they were both a little breathless.

"One day, I'll tell you more about her. There's only one thing you need to know about her right now."

"What's that?"

"Today, I saw her and I realised that I really genuinely don't feel a thing. I was pissed that she was interrupting my time with you. We will be going out tonight, and she is not going to be stopping me from living my life any more."

With that, Troy pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Gabriella's lips, and turned to pick up his grocery bags.

"I'll pick you up at 7pm."

**xxx**

Troy went home, and after putting away his groceries, he found himself sitting on the couch with the sheet music Andy had given him, and his acoustic guitar. It seemed like he wouldn't come across a better time to start rehearsing.

"_I thought you should know, that I'm happy for you, and I wish nothing but, the best for you both..."_

**xxx**

Gabriella was surprised at Troy's choice of restaurant. It was a small Italian restaurant just south of Washington Square Park, La Lanterna di Vittorio. They were seated in a covered courtyard, with a glass covered roof. Troy told her that during the day, it was more of a cafe and the courtyard had a lovely sunny atmosphere; but in the evening with the mood lighting and decore, it was cozy and romantic. She was pleased by the prices in the menu – she didn't care in the slightest about being taken to fancy restaurants where a salad costs an arm and a leg, and she'd felt a little worried that Troy would attempt to 'prove' to her his financial stability. Looking around, there were lots of other young couples, likely students and young professionals who also needed to spend their dollars with care.

Troy seemed to have shaken off his mood from earlier, and the awkward half hour was long past, with small talk and chatter free flowing as they walked to the restaurant, looked over the menus and placed orders. They'd agreed on sharing bruschetta and a margherita pizza, and were sharing a cheap but nonetheless tasty bottle of Moscato.

"I have to say, I wasn't expecting you to bring me somewhere like this," Gabriella confessed.

"What were you expecting? I'd take you to Five Guys?"

"Maybe a step up from there," she giggled. "Is there a deluxe burger place around?"

"Five Guys _is_ the deluxe burger place," Troy said adamantly, shaking his head. "And peanuts are super romantic. You would be lucky to be taken there."

"Next time."

"We've barely started this date, and you're assuming I'll ask you out again?" Troy challenged her with a grin.

"Maybe you're not. Maybe that's why you brought me here – wanted to give me just one blindingly romantic date."

Troy shook his head. "I'll have you know, New York City is filled with romantic options. This is just one of hundreds of places I could've brought you."

"You sound like a romance expert."

"You sound surprised at the notion of me being a romance expert."

Gabriella shrugged, and confessed, "A little."

He wasn't offended. If anything, for him it was refreshing being around Gabriella – someone who he actually wanted to be around for extended periods of time, who wasn't bogged down with preconceptions of who he was or who he _could _be, on the basis of how he used to behave.

"I used to be super romantic. Like, in a dorky way."

"Tell me one of your romance moves," Gabriella urged.

Troy considered this. "Okay... back in high school, I had a few girlfriends. Nothing super serious, but I was captain of the basketball team, and over the summer between junior and senior year I beefed up a bit so..."

"I get it, you were a stud."

He grinned. "I had this old rickety truck that my dad and I had fixed up. Whenever I wanted to like, go steady with a girl, I used to put a bunch of cushions and blankets in the tray and take her somewhere romantic and we'd lie in the back, looking up at the stars, and then I'd offer her my championship ring."

"That's not romantic!" Gabriella exclaimed. "You're taking her somewhere alone and excluded and providing a comfortable place to hook up!"

Troy shook his head adamantly. "It wasn't like that!"

"Sure it wasn't."

"It wasn't!"

"How old were you when you first had sex?" Gabriella asked.

"You won't believe me."

"You were super young, weren't you?" she gasped.

Troy's lips twitched. "Define, super young?"

"16?" He shook his head. "15?"

"Nope."

She gasped. "Shit, you couldn't have been 14? Seriously?"

"I was 19."

"Bull shit!" she exclaimed.

Troy shrugged. "Why would I lie about that?"

"You had girlfriends in high school that you took to a romantic location and gave them your ring and you didn't have sex with them?" Gabriella was clearly dubious.

"We weren't like, only holding hands! I did... _stuff._ I was seeing the same girl on and off for a few months at the end of senior year, she was pretty cool and I actually really liked her but she wasn't ready and I'm not _that_ guy. We broke up after graduation though."

"And you didn't just go out and sow your oats as soon as you arrived in New York City?"

"It was tempting," Troy laughed. "I did it with my first college girlfriend, we hadn't been dating long. She was a sophomore and she was this amazing, amazing pianist. She had very talented fingers." He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.

Gabriella rolled her eyes, but nonetheless laughed. "Incredible."

"How old were you?" Troy countered.

"I was 19. First college boyfriend," she admitted.

"So much in common," he laughed.

"When did you decide to major in music?"

Troy considered this. "Seriously, in sophomore year. I got myself into a music subject in my spring semester of freshman year. That's where I met the aforementioned pianist. I sort of fell into the music scene, like, going to pubs and bars – with an 'underaged' stamp on my hand of course – and listening to live music as soon as I got here to New York. It just... it made sense to me. I can't explain it in any other way. So sophomore year came and I declared my major."

"Does it still make sense?"

"Obviously, or I wouldn't be doing it." Troy frowned. "You haven't been talking to Andy, have you?"

Gabriella laughed. "No, though he seems like a good guy."

"He is. Him and Chad are pretty much the only people I've been able to count on in this city. The guy is also a fucking genius. He went to Juilliard, he's not some hack like me."

"Obviously he doesn't think you're a 'hack' – if he did he wouldn't want to invest more time into your music," Gabriella observed.

"Probably to his own detriment. I just self-taught nearly everything I know about like, actual playing and music. My degree was all music theory shit. Andy is a real professional, he can play a zillion instruments and writes amazing songs. I keep waiting for him to wake up and go jump on board with some other bandwagon and become rich and famous. Instead he sticks around with me."

"Troy, you have a talent. I'm just your average person who loves music, but I can tell you that you have a talent. You talk about "it" factor – if Andy is the guy who can play all the instruments and has experience with writing, then you're the guy with the 'it' factor. You're the one with the charisma, with the charm. How many bands are out there in New York City, fighting to get discovered?"

"God, hundreds, I'm sure. Probably more."

"A lot of it is luck, I'm sure. But it doesn't matter how many instruments you play or how many years you studied at which exclusive school. What matters is that people respond to you delivering a song. Andy wouldn't want to do this with you if he didn't think that you have what it takes."

"Your bruschetta."

Troy and Gabriella were distracted from their somewhat deep conversation by their waiter standing over them holding their starter, and then placing it down between them.

"Thank you," Troy said.

"Can I get you anything else at the moment?"

Both Troy and Gabriella shook their heads and the waiter disappeared. Troy suddenly found himself fascinated by the little pieces of bruschetta, served in four small servings. He took one from the plate, immediately taking a large bite, forcing himself into a self imposed silence. Gabriella also took a piece, taking a smaller bite and watched him carefully.

"That's a lot deeper than I normally get in the first half hour of a first date," Troy admitted.

"I thought we'd already established that it's not like you and I are actually at typical 'first date' level," Gabriella commented.

"I don't know if that comforts me or scares me."

"Okay... let's lighten it up. Favourite movie?"

**xxx**

For the best part of the rest of the evening, the tone was kept a little lighter. Not that conversation was frivolous. If anything, it was their ability to switch dynamics from discussing politics, to the advantages of growing up in middle America, to consumer behaviour, to Broadway; which presented hope. There was certainly attraction, there had been an attraction and chemistry between them since the moment they'd first met back in February.

However attraction was only one part of their dynamic. Plainly and simply, it had been a long time since either one had spent time with a member of the opposite sex who they had such easy and simple rapport with. It was a rapport that existed independently of Gabriella's fascination with his eyes, and her contemplation of whether a good haircut could further heighten his ridiculous good looks. It was a rapport which was so strong, that Troy didn't need to keep up his guard – there was no need to make forceful lewd comments

After finishing their dinner, they decided on going to the jazz bar next door. For a Saturday night, the cover charge was reasonable, there was only a one drink minimum, and a live jazz set was due to come on. Between the bottle of wine and another drink at the jazz bar, Gabriella was feeling a nice buzz, and she was feeling wonderfully content snuggling up beside Troy.

"Trust you to ploy me with alcohol," she murmured teasingly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Troy laughed. "On Wednesday, you were set to drag me into your office for a quickie – a lack of alcohol has not been the issue here."

She giggled, remembering the highly inappropriate make out session just outside the NYU building which housed her office. Any number of her colleagues and students may very well have spotted her in the very public display of affection. She then unintentionally yawned.

"Am I boring you?" he asked with a laugh.

"No. Wine makes me sleepy, especially after a week of minimal sleep."

"We can go after the set finishes," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She didn't argue. Emerging from the bar into the fresh night air woke her up a little, and they walked hand in hand up MacDougal and then along West 4th Street. By the time that they reached her building, Gabriella found herself feeling wide awake – and not wanting the night to end. She took a step toward her door, Troy remaining still, but still holding onto her hand.

"I want to invite you to come upstairs, but I don't want you to say no because we're taking this slowly," Gabriella confessed.

Troy smiled. "What are you inviting me to come upstairs for?"

"A drink? Coffee? Talk?"

**xxx**

Ffiteen minutes later, the decaf coffees Gabriella had made were abandoned on the coffee table, and Gabriella was straddling his lap as they were engaged in a passionate, desperate frenzy of kisses.

"I know we agreed no sex on the first date but... since we've already done it..." Gabriella said breathlessly, hips bucking against his groin.

Troy groaned. "Fuck woman, I'm doing everything I can do be a gentleman, e_specially_ when you're a little tipsy from the wine, but you're testing my patience."

"Maybe I don't want you to be a gentleman," she said coyly. Her fingers threaded through his chestnut locks, and she kissed him once again.

"Maybe you really do want me to be a gentleman, and this is all some test."

Gabriella pulled back a little. Despite her hormonal desperation for release, deep down, she did want him to be a gentleman. But it certainly wasn't a part of some grander test, and she hated for him to be thinking that.

"Did you mean that?" she asked, her hands still holding the back of his head. "Because it's not."

"I wouldn't blame you for not trusting me. Given... given the side of me you got to know first."

"It's just a side of you, Troy," Gabriella murmured. "He's still a part of you, a part of you who I happen to like a lot. Trust is something that comes over time – but I wouldn't use some 'test' to decide if it's time."

Troy nodded. "Okay."

"Truth is that rationally, I know we should wait... but... I can't help that I really, really, really want you."

Troy couldn't help but grin. "You really, really, really want me?"

"If I tell you something... will you promise to not let it go to your head?"

"I can't promise, but I can try?"

"Sex with you... it was the best I've ever had."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

"I'll tell you a secret?" Troy said, and leaned forward to murmur by her ear. "Sex with you was absolutely fucking phenomenal, beyond anything I've ever experienced."

Gabriella smiled. "You thought about me when you were with other women?"

Troy shook his head. "I haven't been with anyone since you."

She scoffed. "Sure."

"Seriously."

She pulled back a little, gazing into his eyes. She didn't detect a hint of insincerity – and it was with this reflection that she found herself kissing him again, this time, softly, tenderly.

"I'm going to climb off you now, before I lose sight of any sort of rational thought," she murmured, and he laughed as she moved herself to sit beside him on the sofa as gracefully as possible.

"I think we're officially doing this relationship in backwards order. We had sex, started to fall for each other, did some domesticated grocery shopping, went on our first date and now we've come inches from dry humping to orgasm like a couple of teenagers in the back seat of a car at the drive-in."

"Let's face it, there's no convention here. We're making up our own rules."

"In that case... then I'm going to ask you a question which typically would never be asked prior to the conclusion of the first date," Troy said with a grin.

"What would that be?"

"What's your schedule like this week?"

Gabriella considered this. "Slightly less hectic than last week. More marking, but less consultation hours. So a lot of work to do but I can do it at my own pace. Why do you ask?"

"Can I meet you for lunch on Monday?"

"Monday?" she repeated with a grin. "Here I am, accustomed to sitting around waiting three days for a guy to call, and you're asking me now if I can commit to a lunch a whole two days ahead? We really are breaking the rules."

"What can I say? I want to pencil you in before any archaeology professors distract you."

"If you're referring to Mitch, he's a palaeontology professor, and things have been awkward ever since you got rid of him for me."

"Aha! You admit I was doing you a favour!" Troy exclaimed with a triumphant fist pump.

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up and kiss me."

**xxx**

"_I'd love to try to set you free."_

**xxx**

**AN: **Lyric from 'You Oughtta Know' by Alanis Morisette utilised. I make no money. Alanis is a legend.


	11. Eleven

**THE SIMPLE NEED**

**xxx**

**ELEVEN**

Time has a funny way of moving faster, right at a time when all you want it to do is slow down.

Troy would've liked a few extra days, weeks, months to prepare for their first gig as a trio - and his first gig as the man up front. Instead, the week flew by quicker than ever. Between dedicating spare time to rehearsing lyrics, spending time with Gabriella and putting in overtime at his store, Troy felt like it was yesterday that he'd been at the Lion's Den hearing Drew's announcement, when it had just a week earlier.

A week was nothing.

A week was not enough time to wrap his head around the idea of the new potential life path that lay in front of him - a potential life path which he'd desired in the back of his mind, but which was becoming closer to reality.

But a week was all he had – and in that week, they had a somewhat raw but nonetheless prepared set.

There was just half an hour until the gig was scheduled to start. They were backstage, having met up earlier for an extra rehearsal, and then setting up an hour earlier than normal. Troy wanted to do a proper sound check – normally he didn't bother with testing the equipment, they just did a series of "1, 2, test test" to make sure the audio was right; but he needed to get used to being able to hear both himself and his instrument and to find the balance in his volume. The lucky few who were around heard a preview of one of the tracks for later in the evening. They'd received a positive smattering of applause, which Andy had taken as a good omen but it wasn't enough for Troy.

Andy had headed out to grab their water bottles and to check out the atmosphere, and reappeared backstage with a wide grin on his face.

"The bar is packed!" Andy exclaimed.

"College exams finished today. They're celebrating," Steve pointed out.

Troy exhaled loudly, fingers rapping against the wood of his acoustic guitar which he was cradling as he sat on the couch.

"Tell them to go elsewhere," he mumbled. He hadn't felt stage fright since the first time that he'd performed with a band. He felt quite literally ill - overheated and sweating, a touch of nausea.

"No way bro, today is do or die. We wanted a test – we get a _real_ test," Andy responded.

"_You_ wanted a test. _I_ just wanted to make my few dollars and enjoy our bar tab," Troy muttered under his breath.

Troy felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket, and he retracted it. He smiled at the sight of who had sent him the text.

"You and your girl are tight, huh? Who thought the day would come that Bolton would settle down again," Steve mused. The look on Troy's face was the kind of look that a guy only gets when he'd texting with his girlfriend.

However Troy wasn't really listening, he was staring at the text before him.

_Good luck xxx_

In that moment, no amount of text message luck could succeed in quashing the feeling of nausea in his stomach.

**I can't do this.**

Troy tuned out from the white noise of Andy and Steve's small talk, focusing on keeping his eyes closed and breathing exercises. He didn't even hear the knock at the door, or realise that Andy had stood, gratefully invited the visitor to come backstage and brought her over to stand in front of Troy.

"Troy," Gabriella's soft voice spoke.

Troy's eyes opened and he felt a little shocked, but simultaneously felt a strange calm from her presence.

"Come talk with me outside," Gabriella urged.

He didn't respond, just set his acoustic guitar down and allowed her to lead him to the back door, the door that they'd tumbled out of in a mess of frantic kisses back in February. Once outside, the din from the merry patrons inside was a distant buzz, and he felt himself calming a touch, taking in breaths of the cool night air.

"What's this text about? Don't tell me the big superstar is afraid?" Gabriella said, somewhat lightly. It had taken one look at him as she'd passed the threshold into their little backstage cocoon, to see just how much he'd been affected by his nerves.

"I'm not afraid," Troy shot back, giving her a slightly dirty look. But then he sighed – afraid might not be the best choice of word, but he wasn't exactly confident.

"Nervous, then?" she supplied a better word.

He leaned back against the brick wall, eyes closing. "Maybe."

"You've been rehearsing all week. You're ready, I know you are."

"I'm not nervous about like, remembering the lyrics and the music. I've got all that. It isn't like the whole set is new – it's all stuff that we've either done before, or that Andy and me have worked on."

"Then what?"

"Andy wanted to push me. He succeeded. In making me sing about things that are personal."

"Singing with feeling, emotion?" Gabriella supplied. "The kinds of things you once insisted to me you remained detached from in your music?"

He sighed. "Yeah well... I lied. Well not totally. I haven't performed them before. Well some of them, yeah, but not in one big lump."

"It's confronting, isn't it?"

Troy nodded. "I kinda, you know, tend to ignore shit rather than dealing with it. I don't reveal all and put myself out there to be judged every day."

Gabriella couldn't help but smile. "Really? Here I thought that your transformation into Troy Bolton, Playboy, was some sort of Psychiatrist prescribed coping mechanism."

"Playboy is an exaggeration."

"I don't think this is a conversation for right now."

"Probably not, because I need you to not be mad with me."

"Tell me about the set list. I've heard bits and pieces but not the whole thing."

"It's like a fucking biography," Troy said snarkily. "I swear Andy just wants to see me crumple into a ball and cry or something."

"Isn't this a process you'll need to go through, if you and Andy start writing more? The best songwriters, they bare their hearts and souls." Gabriella didn't know a lot about music, and really she didn't know a lot about Troy's history – it was something that she was uncovering pieces of the puzzle to very slowly. One of the only weapons at her arsenal was ration.

Troy nodded. "Yeah. Andy says that if we're gonna do this, I have to start singing about stuff I relate to, I have to start feeling. When I called him on the set list, he said that if we're going to use tonight as a basis on which to talk about if we're gonna do this seriously, then I need to do this. And... intellectually, I know he's right. But emotionally, it's fucking scary."

"Troy, your average person in that bar won't even realise. They'll just take the songs as being songs, they won't be thinking about what it means to you – unless you do actually break down and cry on stage, which isn't going to happen. You're stronger than that."

"I don't care about what your average person thinks."

"Then whose opinion do you care about?"

He was silent, before admitting the truth quietly. "Yours."

"Troy, there is nothing you could do tonight to make me change how I feel about you," Gabriella said softly, but firmly.

"Even if you realise just how fucked up I am?"

"That could make me feel even more for you."

"Even if I sound like a lovesick douche and all my cards are on the table and I officially have no more moves, ever?"

"Why don't you share with me now... get it out of the way?" Gabriella suggested coyly.

"You just want me to serenade you."

"Seems like you would be the one to reap the benefits if you serenaded me," she shot back teasingly.

He smirked, memories floating back of the first time they'd met, dedicating saucy lyrics to her and singing by her ear, with the deliberate intent of causing a reaction in her.

"Turn around, I can't do it if I can see your face," he said quietly.

Gabriella complied, and turned around, facing back toward the back door. Troy's arms wrapped around her, and her hands came up to rest over his. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and Troy's smooth voice sang a few lines of lyrics.

"_Here we are again, I feel the chemicals kicking in, it's getting heavy and I wanna run and hide, I wanna run and hide; I do it every time, you're killing me now, and I won't be denied by you, the animal inside of you..." _

He trailed off, pressing a soft kiss to her neck. Before Gabriella could respond - a response that likely would've involved pushing him against the wall and throwing all of their work to 'take it slow' out the window, they were interrupted.

"Beautiful," a voice said.

Gabriella opened her eyes and Troy looked up, both seeing Andy standing at the doorway with a coy smile on his face.

"Time?" Troy asked.

Andy nodded. "Yeah. You can have another minute or two." He gave a quick wink and closed the door behind him.

Troy turned back to Gabriella – and found himself being pulled down, Gabriella's hands grabbing his t-shirt and kissing him hard.

"Don't be scared to put your cards on the table. You can do this, I know you can," she murmured by his ear.

**xxx**

With Gabriella's words floating through his mind, Troy did exactly that. He spent fourteen songs putting every single card he had on the table. Andy's carefully constructed set list told a biographical tale. He sang about his fathers disapproval, about falling in love and being cheated on, about the anger and pain and hatred, about trying to drown out his sorrows, and then about falling in love again and screwing up and needing second chances.

He sang from the very depths of his soul – and despite the reign of terror, he emerged feeling strong, feeling triumphant. He hadn't reverted to foetal position, in fact it was the opposite – the experience was cathartic, liberating.

**xxx**

Troy was in a haze as they exited from the stage. From the backstage area, the cheers from the crowd were louder than they'd ever been before. He was aware that they'd nailed it, he was aware that it was the best set that they'd ever done – and he was aware that he was the one who had carried it.

The bar manager, Larry, came bursting out the back with a round of water bottles to hand over to the guys. Troy was standing wordlessly and Andy and Steve were high fiving and exclaiming to one another.

"Guys, shit, that was sensational!" Larry exclaimed. "To think that I was worried about how people would respond to you guys without Drew. They want an encore – how about it? Do you have another trick up your sleeves?"

Andy glanced at Steve and Troy. "We cut _Elevation_?" he pondered. It was an important decision. If you come back and do an encore, it has to be good – there is nothing worse than coming back for a bad encore song.

"I dunno... I think we cut it because it wasn't quite right," Steve mused.

"Kings. _Use Somebody_," Troy spoke for the first time since leaving the stage.

It was a track that they'd performed with the whole group, with Troy picking up lead vocals and Drew doing back-up, one they'd received volumes of positive feedback for, and one that Andy always used to try to convince Troy that he truly was capable of fronting a band.

"That's it," Andy agreed immediately. Steve also gave his nod of approval.

"Excellent," Larry said with a fist pump, and headed out on stage to introduce the guys back onto stage.

So much of the set had been about her – about six sings he sang with her and their experiences in mind. Not even as they'd performed a stripped down version of _The Reason_ by Hoobastank had he dared to look at her. But this time, it felt different. He'd performed _Use Somebody_ before, and for him, the lyric was an abstract, the 'somebody' was an undefined entity that he knew he needed in his life. However now, there was no doubt that he connected every ounce of the soul and energy and melody and rhythm to her.

After the opening bars had been played, as he took a breath and was just about to sing the first lyrics, he found his eyes darting around and seeking her out. He found her, and was a little surprised to see her staring right back at him. The lights were bright and so her figure wasn't completely clear, but there was no doubt that she was staring directly at him – not paying a lick of attention to Andy, Steve, her friends or the drink on the table in front of her. His gaze met hers, and remained steady as he sang the first few lines.

_I've been roaming around, always looking down at all I see..._

A couple of hours earlier, Troy had been utterly terrified of standing on stage, playing and singing and exposing his soul to the world. It still terrified him – a part of him kept waiting for the tomatoes to be thrown, he was waiting to get online after the gig and see comments about how much the band sucked now that Drew was gone. But a part of him felt a relief, it felt cathartic to be open, to spend that time without a single bit of pretense.

To be real.

He found it hard to express in words to Gabriella how he felt about her – he sensed a certain level of reservation from her, at times. It was like she was waiting for something to happen, for the penny to drop, for him to suddenly baulk.

However he needed her to know, unequivocally, that even though he was bound to make mistakes and even if he fucked up from time to time – that he needed her. She was more than something he wanted – she was something he _needed._

Expressing that through his music was infinitely easier than using the words.

_I hope it's gonna make you notice, I hope it's gonna make you notice, someone like me_

**xxx**

"Fuck, you guys!" Steve exclaimed. "You're making me want to quit my job and do this whole rock star gig full time!"

The guys were hauling equipment out to the van. Andy and Steve were still ecstatic, just as they had been prior to the encore – and Troy was still somewhat gobsmacked, however had regained a little composure.

"Do it! Seriously, fuck man, that was _incredible._ Best gig ever, and we did what, two full rehearsals?" Andy said incredulously.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Troy remarked, rolling his eyes. "It was still just a bunch of covers."

"_Right now._ You say the word, and we can make it much more," Andy declared.

Troy gave an aggravated sigh. "I opened the door for that one, didn't I?"

"Dude, you have no idea what we just did, do you?"

"Actually, I do. Which is the scary part," Troy admitted.

"Guys, I'm gonna say it again – don't write off the idea of doing original stuff. Everything acoustic we did, the kind of stuff I know you guys would write – that's the shit that they really seemed to dig, at least, it seemed that way," Steve pointed out.

"I can't wait to go on Facebook later," Andy said with a gleam in his eye.

"You're such a fame whore. It's a bunch of drunk college students. They'll cheer for anyone who can carry a tune," Troy scoffed.

Steve laughed. "True but... it felt like it could be more."

"You guys are just going like, full speed ahead here, like, a zillion miles an hour. A week ago it's just the four of us having fun. Now Andy's playing fucking therapist..."

"Therapist?!" Andy repeated.

Steve held his hands up defensively. "I want nothing to do with this conversation. I'm going back in to take advantage of our bar tab and the hot chicks and I'll leave you two to bicker. Feel free to join me."

"I'll be there after I talk sense into Troy," Andy said, giving Steve a nod, the two exchanging a fist bump before Steve headed away.

"I think maybe you're the one who needs to have sense talked into him," Troy pointed out, attention focused on his starry eyed friend.

"Why? Because I want us to take this a bit more seriously?"

"I just think you need a reality check, that's all."

"What happened to the dream, man?"

"The dream is nice, but let's be real."

"You cannot tell me for one second that you didn't fucking love that. Yeah, I get it, you were shit scared..."

"Of course I was shit scared, which you forced me to be. Picking a bunch of songs that you _knew_ would get to me."

"Oh no, God forbid the tough guy sing something real for once," Andy rolled his eyes. "Troy, you can drop the act. I know you. I knew you before you got fucked over, I've been there through your douchebag years. Drop it all. The reason you're freaking out is because tonight, we did something _real_, and that scares you. It isn't about you being scared of singing about feelings. You're scared that if you actually try at something and we fail, then you won't be able to cope."

Troy was silent, before responding somewhat snarkily, "You sure you went to Juilliard? Sounds like you studied Psych."

Andy ignored this comment. "You say I'm getting ahead. Okay, let's think about it. What's the worst case scenario? We start writing, we gig, we record. We make an EP. We get some airplay on local college stations, we have songs on iTunes which like, a handful of people actually buy. We get to gig and play _our_ stuff and when you hold that microphone out to get the crowd to sing, a group of ten people know _our_ lyrics."

Troy couldn't help but grin at that part of the vision. This was a huge part of the dream – he loved looking up YouTube videos of live gigs with his favourite bands, and seeing the electric atmosphere in the crowd when they all unite to sing a lyric that has inspired them.

"Along the way, we'll have a fuckload of fun. I'm just... I'm not saying that will be easy, but you and me, we already put our souls into this. Why not at least _try_ to see what can come from it. If that's the worst case scenario, then I don't know why we don't give it a go."

Troy considered this, before responding, "Worst case scenario is that everyone _hates_ our music, and no one buys it, and we're at a gig and no one bothers coming."

"My mom will buy it, so will your mom. We have friends who will come. I bet Gabriella will be there right up front, singing her hot little ass off." Andy wiggled his eyebrows.

"Gabriella might wake up next week and realise she's way too good for me and dump my ass."

"Doesn't look likely, from the little that I've seen," Andy observed.

The night air went quiet, or as quiet as it could be in New York City. The music from the DJ set that was now playing could be just heard, along the general buzz of Manhattan – traffic noises, cars honking, someone shouting from a nearby apartment window.

"Let's start with writing," Troy said finally. "That's... I mean, that's where we have to start anyway. Let's jam and try to write and... take it from there."

"Write together? Not me writing, _we_ are going to write?"

Troy nodded. "Yes."

Andy grinned. "I'll take that for now."

"You'll have to."

"We'll keep gigging with Steve, get you more experience out front, yeah?"

"Yup."

"And... maybe look at putting our songs into the set?"

"Dude, don't push me," Troy warned, but deep down, he knew that Andy was going to get his way.

Andy laughed. "Come on. Let's go back inside. Hysteria awaits."

If Troy hadn't felt like a true rock star standing on the small bar stage with people cheering and applauding, then walking back into the bar was certainly a step in the direction of coming to terms with just how successful the set had been. There were regulars at the bar – whether regulars for the band or just because they liked the bar and they liked having a few drinks on a Friday night – who Troy had developed a rapport that sat somewhere between acquaintances and friends. Suddenly, they were all his friends, enthusiastically greeting him, shaking his hand, clapping him on the back. Women whom he had flirted with – some of whom he had slept with – were vying for his attention the moment he appeared through the door. Six months ago, Troy would have certainly enjoyed the female attention aspect of his elevation into leading man. Now, he felt uncomfortable with their attention, and he felt concerned that he could be misconstrued as encouraging the behaviour. As politely as possible he thanked people for the feedback, but pushed on through, headed straight to the tables toward the back in the middle, a tunnel vision approach.

"Dude!" Chad exclaimed, stepping forward to give Troy a half hug and a hand shake.

Troy went through the motions of greeting his friends, but he kept an eye on Gabriella the whole time. He couldn't help but feel a little perturbed at her lack of an overwhelming reaction. He knew her well enough to understand that in front of not only their friends but surrounded by a noisy bar of people, she wasn't the type to become overly clingy or emotive. However he expected something from her. Instead as he arrived at the group and exchanged handshakes and hugs with the others, she stood stoic, staring at her empty glass on the table. He'd expected at least a hug to be initiated by her, but he found himself having to initiate the contact.

"Uh... hi?" he said questioningly, his hand resting gently on the small of her back.

It was only when she turned to look at him that he realised that he'd mistaken her withdrawal for disinterest. Instead, it appeared that she had been trying to keep herself under control.

"Troy, that was..." she trailed off, and took a deep breath. It was hard to pinpoint her reaction, not in a few words while surrounded by dozens of people and loud music.

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "Well, you did once ask me to play something real. I might've taken my time, but I delivered. Better late than never, right?"

He'd wanted his wry remark to somewhat break the tension, but instead, her response was the opposite. Her face broke, her eyes filled with tears, a sob escaped from her lips.

"Hey, hey," he said soothingly, pulling her in to hold her tight.

She clung to his frame, overcome with emotion, feeling like the only person who could ground her was him.

"Why do I get the feeling that you clinging to me right now is about something more than being glad to see me?" he murmured. She didn't respond. "Do you want to go out back for a minute? Away from the noise?"

He felt her nod against his chest. Troy didn't even acknowledge his friends, he simply led her away. He took her straight back into the backstage area which was now void of occupants, and over to the old couch. He sat down, and pulled her down to sit beside him. She found herself falling on top of him, straddling his lap. His hands fell onto her waist, her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"What's going on?" he asked quietly.

"I'm sorry, I feel so terrible, you just... you did that incredible set which I know was so hard and you were so amazing," she murmured, and leaned forward to kiss him softly. "I can't even imagine how hard it was for you... and I just... I can't believe how emotional I feel."

She pulled back slightly, gazing at him. Troy returned the stare momentarily, trying to read her. He sighed.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"With that pitying look. Like 'wow he's fucked up, I knew that but now I know just how fucked up.' That's the emotion that's going on for you."

Gabriella considered this for a split second, before shaking her head. "Actually, no, that's not it at all."

"Then what? Talk to me."

"I was thinking about how... crazy I am about you. And how privileged I am to have seen that. I feel... I feel like I know you even more now. I feel like I saw your soul tonight. And how... how amazing you are and... pretty much how I am planning to quit my job and become a groupie. Not for the band, but for you, personally. Because I'm just..." she took a breath, feeling the need to halt before she allowed the raw emotion of the moment to overtake her and lead to admissions that they weren't ready for.

"I have no objections to having a personal groupie," Troy teased lightly.

She ignored the tease in his tone. He tended to do this – make light of a serious moment, to deflect from discussion. "I could tell how personal that set was for you."

"I tried to keep myself removed but... it was pretty impossible."

She'd understood that he'd been cheated on, but it had never really sunk in for Gabriella that he'd been crushed – that he'd been genuinely in love before.

"Tiffany broke your heart."

"Yes."

"You loved her – like, you really loved her."

"Yes."

"She cheated on you with... a friend?"

Troy nodded. "A band mate. Andy and I used to play with a different band. Tiffany wanted me to just keep teaching even though I hated it. I went back to substitute teaching for her, after quitting, to try to make her happy, but she wanted me to do it full time. It was always this point of contention between us. I think she was scared of the uncertainty that came with my... you know... trying to figure out what I wanted to be doing with life. They were sleeping together for weeks. When it all came out, the band broke up. Not long after Andy and I started playing with Drew and Steve, and we got the gig here."

"Where you could gig regularly around groupie college girls and drown away your sorrows with liquor and sex?" Her tone wasn't accusatory, it was frank.

He couldn't deny her summary, though he felt it was a whole lot more simplistic than he'd like.

"I was hurt. I was mad. In the first few weeks of being a part of this band, I was hurting and somehow, it was easier just being... that guy. Sex was about sex. It felt good, physically, but it never felt like more."

"Did you try dating?"

Troy nodded. "Yeah, a few times. But I just... I wasn't ready. I couldn't trust enough. Chad always told me that if I met someone that I felt that spark with, then I'd quit fucking around, and that's how I'd know that I was ready. I didn't believe him... til you."

"Tonight was the first time that I... that I think I was really able to understand. And also the first time that I was able to believe."

"Believe?"

"I'm falling for you so hard that it terrifies me. I'm normally quite reserved with my heart but with you... it's like you make me throw all of my usual ration out the window. But I've been... I guess holding a part of myself back. Waiting to see if..."

"If I run?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"A few weeks ago, I was scared of that too. But now I just... I'm here, Gabriella, and I'm not going anywhere."

"I wasn't sure if you knew what you wanted," she admitted.

"What do you want?" he asked, cocking his head.

A part of her wanted to throw the challenge back at him, but she figured that after all that he'd exposed to her through song, it was only fair that she take the leap.

"With you I... I want to hold your hand in public. I want to snuggle in front of our friends. I want to spend inordinate amounts of time with you. I want us to update our Facebook profile photos to be a 'couple shot.' I want to know, for certain, that you're interested in me and only me. But I don't want to push you because I'm terrified of scaring you off, of being _that_ girl."

"I told you last weekend that I haven't been with anyone else since you. I have no interest in being with anyone else but you," Troy said truthfully.

"I'm sensing a but."

Troy sighed. "You spend two years being mistrusting and using sexual innuendo as a defense mechanism... it kind of becomes ingrained habit."

"Why do you need a defense mechanism around me? Troy, I'm not your ex-girlfriend. Surely you get that not all women are like her."

"It's not about that," he mused. "It's... Tiffany didn't want to be with me because of my lifestyle, for lack of a better word. I guess I'm wary that you're going to wake up and realise how much better you are than me."

"Better?" Gabriella repeated.

"I don't have my shit together. It's all good that you say now that you don't care that I live pay check to pay check. But that will change, you say it won't, but it will."

"How together do you think I am?" Gabriella asked incredulously.

Troy shrugged. "Certainly a hell of a lot better off than me!"

"I'm not going to sit here and deny that, but I think you need to get a little perspective. I'm 26 and I have a mortgage on a condo in Greenwich Village, which is a pretty insane decision to have made, especially when going into a new job that I didn't even know if I'd like or even be any good at. I'm only six months into my employment with NYU, with no certainty of being kept on beyond the next eighteen months. A couple of times, I've had to dig into my inheritance from my father to make my mortgage payments, something I promised myself I wouldn't do, but I live on a budget and sometimes I go over budget and it becomes necessary. I drink the cheapest wine I can possibly buy that comes in a bottle – I draw the line at wine in a box. I love when I get drinks from your bar tab here – every 'Orgasm' you order saves me a few dollars." Troy laughed at the memory, and she continued. "I don't expect you to take me to fancy restaurants or send me ridiculous flower bouquets 'just because'. I don't really like pretentious restaurants and flowers make me sneeze."

Troy glanced around. "Really? Shit, I'd better cancel that delivery of 100 bouquets of wildflowers that was coming to your office on Monday."

Gabriella laughed, and pressed a kiss to his lips, a kiss that he returned with vigour.

"I'm so crazy about you, and I intend to spend an inordinate amount of time with you to prove it to you," he murmured. "Starting tonight."

"Tonight?" she asked, a playful smile on her lips.

He nodded. "Yes. Because we are going to walk back into that bar hand in hand and celebrate that I did a fucking amazing set, and drink alcohol because I agreed that Andy and I would start by doing some writing and that's fucking terrifying and I need a drink to settle down."

"It might be terrifying, but that's the second best decision you've made this year," Gabriella said.

"Second best?"

"The best was to come over to my place with my bra in your pocket."

Hand in hand, Troy and Gabriella emerged from backstage back into the bar. They first went to the bar where he obtained them drinks – a double bourbon and coke for himself, and a vodka, soda and lemon for her. Their friends had disappeared from the small table, but it didn't take long to find them at one of the larger booths on the other side of the bar, along with Andy, Steve and one of Steve's work colleagues. It was away from the dance floor and speakers, making it a little quieter and more suitable for conversation.

"Finally, the man of the hour arrives!" Steve declared.

"Sorry, I stole him away," Gabriella said with a smile.

"I don't think you guys have met, Gabriella this is Steve; Steve, my girlfriend, Gabriella."

Gabriella gave Troy a sharp glance at his usage of the word girlfriend. He noticed the glance and merely smiled at her.

"And this is Steve's buddy Dylan," Troy continued.

Gabriella exchanged handshakes with both of the guys.

"I'll find a couple of chairs," Troy said, glancing around.

"No it's okay, we're actually about to go chat to those chicks over by the back corner," Andy said, gesturing to himself, Steve and Dylan, the guys standing up from the booth they were sharing with Troy and Gabriella's friends.

"We'd ask you to come Troy, but looks like you're not interested," Steve teased.

"Not in the slightest," Troy said, completely sincerely.

"The blonde one is a sophomore at NYU," Gabriella supplied.

"Dibs!" Dylan exclaimed.

"That's disgusting," Taylor said with a shake of the head, but not at all surprised. She was familiar with Troy and his extended group of band buddies and their habits of chasing after college students.

"She's taking one of your classes?" Andy asked. "Aren't you like, a science professor?"

"Took, we just finished the semester. Intro to Modern Chem."

"How smart is she?" Dylan asked.

"Too smart for you, I bet," Chad joked.

Dylan raised his eyebrows. "I'm not some moron, I am an accountant, you know."

"Okay then, less talk, more action," Troy challenged.

"Let's go, boys," Steve said.

Troy and Gabriella slid down into the side of the booth where the guys had been sitting, places officially being traded. It wasn't lost on the others how closely together they were sitting, however no one openly commented.

"I can't watch, these guys are gross," Sharpay said with a shudder. She gave Zeke a look. "I hope you didn't pray on women in bars when you were single."

"Me? Never," he said with a straight face, lying through his teeth.

"And you're trying to claim that you've never, ever, put on a short dress and gone to a bar and flirted to get a guy to buy you drinks and then..." Chad trailed off, letting the words remain unsaid.

"Never?" Taylor repeated. "Honey, even _I _can't claim that."

The group spent the next hour hanging out, chatting, having another round of drinks. At one point Sharpay grabbed her cell phone and snapped a few photos – one of her and Zeke, one of Troy and Gabriella, one of her, Taylor and Gabriella. It was a first for Gabriella and Troy – to take the affection they'd developed in private, and to display it in public. They weren't being openly awkward with inappropriate public displays, but there was such a shift in the dynamics they'd experienced among the group previously. For Taylor and Chad, it reminded them more of the friendly, natural chemistry that they'd seen the night of Gabriella's impromptu dinner party the day that she and Troy had bumped into one another at Starbucks and wound up back at her apartment putting her bed frame together - but with more obvious affection. Entwined hands, footsies, pecks on the cheek. It was behaviour which they hadn't seen from Troy in years.

The night was winding down, and Gabriella excused herself to use the bathroom, knowing that she wouldn't make it back to her apartment without needing to go. Taylor accompanied her, the two standing in line.

"Gabriella... I am kind of in disbelief," Taylor confessed.

"About what?" she asked.

"You! Him! It's... it's kind of sickeningly perfect."

Gabriella laughed, ducking her head. "I don't know if I'd say _perfect_ but... it is kind of amazing."

"You're making me jealous. I miss that feeling at the beginning of a relationship, when it's all new and exciting," Taylor sighed.

"It is fun, but you have to know that I look up to couples like you and Chad." Taylor made a scoffing sound. "I do! I love that you guys are so different, but you don't compromise who you are in your relationship."

"You've had too many drinks."

"I've only had a few," Gabriella chuckled.

They were at the front of the queue and a stall became available, Gabriella ducking in. After she came out and washed her hands, she quickly reapplied her lip gloss, and then felt her cell phone vibrate in her purse. Taylor had just emerged from her toilet stall when Gabriella pulled out her phone. The vibration had come from a few Facebook notifications that had come through. The first was that Sharpay had tagged her in a photo. Gabriella grinned, seeing the photo that Sharpay had snapped of her and Troy not long before. It was undoubtedly a cute photo. She grinned – it had only just been uploaded, but already it had a couple of likes.

_Troy Bolton and 1 other person like this._

The second that caught her eye was a notification from Troy – she had him "starred" as a "favourite friend" and so received notifications about almost all of his Facebook activity. And according to her current notifications, she was advised that he had just changed his profile picture. She clicked on the link, the photo opened, and she immediately smiled widely.

"What? Naughty text?" Taylor asked as she patted her hands dry on her jeans, as the bathroom had no paper towels and the hand dryer was out of order.

Gabriella shook her head, selecting the "like" button on his new profile photo. "Um, no. You ready?"

Taylor nodded and the pair headed back toward the table where Sharpay, Zeke, Chad and Troy were waiting. Troy appeared somewhat disengaged from the conversation the other three were having, sitting with his arm sprawled across the back of the booth. He seemed to have been waiting for Gabriella's return, and the moment that she was within his eye line, their eyes locked, a playful smile on his lips. Gabriella strode straight back to him, sliding into the booth beside him and immediately pressed her lips to his, initiating a heated kiss. Their friends around the booth were of no relevance or bearing, all that Gabriella was focused on was him.

"I didn't quite expect that reaction," he laughed when she pulled back.

"Troy... I want us to leave now. I want to spend inordinate amounts of time with you and you alone tonight," she murmured by his ear.

"What happened to slow?" Troy asked, swallowing.

Gabriella's hand fell to his thigh, ran up over the fabric of his jeans and momentarily cupped his groin. He winced, immediately feeling it perk to life.

"I'm sick of slow. You don't need to be polite. Your gentlemanly gestures have more than paid off."

"I have just one question."

"What's that?"

"Your place, or mine?"

**xxx**

**Author's note:**

_I have created a full set list which the boys would have performed, I actually spent copious hours putting this together and YouTubing for covers and live sets and acoustic versions. Some of the songs are performed in a more acoustic version than the radio edit you're likely familiar with. I've put an * beside those songs, to try to paint a picture that Andy has worked hard to try to gradually establish a new tone with Troy as their lead man, without alienating their current fan base. _

Numb – Linkin Park *

Sugar We're Going Down – Fall Out Boy

Fuck You – Cee-Lo *

You Oughta Know – Alanis Morisette *

Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have – Panic! At The Disco

Tonight Tonight – Hot Chelle Rae

Rock Star – Nickelback

Crashed – Daughtry *

The Hard Way – Thirsty Merc

We Are Young – Fun

Animal – Neon Trees

The Reason – Hoobastank *

This Is For Real – Motion City Soundtrack

Sing – My Chemical Romance

Use Somebody – Kings of Leon

_If you really look at these songs from a lyrical perspective, they tell a biography of Troy's life; and I see the set as being broken into pre-Gabriella; and post-Gabriella – Crashed by Daughtry would be the turning point._

_I've also created a mix of these songs via 8tracks . com (minus the spaces) which is this amazing website. Go to _**_8tracks dot com slash pandora147 slash the – simple – need – troy – s – leading – man - debut_**_ (minus the spaces)– if you can't get the link to work, look in my profile to find it. _


End file.
